GIFT OF 
 JANE K.SATHER 
 
ENGLAND 
 
 in the 
 
 EIGHTEENTH 
 CENTURY 
 
 ESSAYS IN VERSE 
 by O. F. Christie 
 
 Our temperate isle will no extremes sustain 
 Of popular sway or arbitrary reign^ 
 But slides between them both into the best^ 
 Secure in freedom^ in a Monarch blest. 
 
 Dryden: The Medal 
 
 Oxford: Basil Blackwell 
 1921 
 
• • fc • • • 
 
 • • • • • • 
 
 •••" ##••• 
 
 7^^^^^*^?^ - »s^^>«3Cc^ 
 
To my Friend 
 
 The Rev. Herbert Spencer, m.a. 
 
 in grateful recognition of his kind interest 
 
 in these Ess AYS 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2008 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/englandineighteeOOchririch 
 
PREFACE 
 
 THOUGH these Essays attempt to present 
 only a few aspects of English life in the Eigh- 
 teenth Century, I hope the Reader may find 
 some sort of connection between them. If not, the 
 fault is mine ; for the period has a unity, which, how- 
 ever hard to define, ought to be reflected in whatever 
 is written about its history, manners and opinions. 
 
 Sir Leslie Stephen said that the Century began in 
 1688 and ended in 1832, and surely he was right; 
 Revolution and Reform are its natural boundaries. 
 So 1 have added a Prologue and an Epilogue, to 
 include those portions of the Seventeenth and 
 Nineteenth Centuries which really belong to the 
 Eighteenth. And yet, in a sense, the deaths of Pitt 
 and Fox marked the close of the era; for with them — 
 except that Sheridan still lived — ended the race of 
 the great men, the Giants of the Century. Nor has 
 England since seen their like. 
 
 The meaning of an age must first be sought in 
 its own literature and art; but let me admit my 
 obligations to many modern interpreters from Lord 
 Macaulay onwards, — too many to enumerate. Those 
 who take an interest in these times will easily recog- 
 nise to whom I have been indebted, and how great is 
 the debt. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The manners and customs of this age are too 
 enormous a subject for one essay. I have tried to 
 view them only from one angle — how they were 
 affected, and improved, by the sociability of watering- 
 places and pleasure-gardens, and how the amenities 
 of life were thus augmented for the well-to-do in 
 contrast with the continuing squalor of the criminal 
 and the poor. 
 
 There are still many things in this Century which 
 to me remain obscure, or only partly explained; as, 
 for example, why theEnglish so easilyaccepted their 
 foreign Monarchs, and what they thought about 
 them, how the rural Tories fared under the Whig 
 domination, or why ^poor Fred' was so hated by his 
 royal parents. On these and other matters, such as 
 the Sacheverell riots, and the characters of Boling- 
 broke (who has found so strong a champion in Mr 
 Sichel), and of Newcastle (whose blunders make 
 him somehow attractive, and remind one of Gold- 
 smith), I have ventured some speculations. These 
 may be neither very exhaustive, nor very original; 
 1 can only claim an effort to be impartial, 
 
 O.F.C. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Prologue 
 
 I 
 
 Beginning of the Century . 
 
 8 
 
 The Coming of the Hanoverians 
 
 22 
 
 The Whig Domination 
 
 33 
 
 The Upper and the Lower Worlds 
 
 51 
 
 The Rule of King George the Third 
 
 74 
 
 The Church of England . 
 
 91 
 
 Ending of the Century 
 
 119 
 
 Epilogue 
 
 . 136 
 
ENGLAND/;; //^^XVIIIM CENTURY 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 A PRINCE of meagre frame, but falcon-eyed. 
 Still young, but warrior and statesman tried, 
 , Watched with exulting heart his armies land — 
 Foot, horse and guns all safe — on Torbay's strand: 
 But on this Prince's sad impassive face 
 None might his inward exultation trace. 
 
 To greet him a big bustling Parson pressed, 
 Broad-built Burnet, whose joy was manifest; 
 ^Oh! Sire,' cried he, ^ God's blessing on the day! 
 As surely He hath blessed us on our way. 
 Who hath that East wind sent, the long-desired. 
 And then, to land us here, the South inspired, 
 And now the West, King James's fleet t'impede ; 
 God favours us. His will is clear indeed. 
 All's well so far. Now whither do we move? 
 What measures doth your Highness next approve.'^' 
 
 'A plan, my worthy friend,' the Prince replied, 
 'The God, that brought us here, shall sure provide. 
 God's finger in this business I avow ; 
 What think^^^ of Predestination now?' 
 So, faintly smiling, the predestined man 
 Turned to elaborate his human plan; 
 For God helps those that help themselves, we know, 
 b I 
 
PROLOGUE 
 
 For whom alone the favouring breezes blow; 
 'Twas thus the Duke of Monmouth lost his head 
 While William won a crown and realm instead. 
 
 For true it is this valiant Prince and wise 
 Had well prepared his mighty enterprise, 
 His forces in five hundred ships transported, 
 By fifty well-found men-of-war escorted, 
 Schomberg himself to lead the brave array. 
 The troops of Talmash, Bentinck, Solmes, Mackay, 
 Pieces of heavy cannon, whiskered Swiss 
 And Swedish horsemen, — nothing was amiss. 
 His, too, were order, forethought, policy, 
 'Gainst fear, divided counsels, treachery; 
 The Tyrant struck a feeble blow and fled. 
 And saved himself, — but Tyranny was dead. 
 A hundred days decided England's fate, 
 William was King proclaimed at Whitehall Gate, 
 His triumph was complete, his kingdom won, — 
 And only then his troubles were begun. 
 
 When Papist James succeeded to the Crown, 
 Heralds gave out his puissance and renown. 
 Nor did these ancient ceremonies vary 
 For Calvinist King William, and for Mary. 
 Heralds and pursuivants with loud fanfare, 
 Clarencieux, Rouge Dragon, all were there; 
 The trumpets blew, the people made acclaims, 
 As scarce five years ago they did for James. 
 Likewise the Lords and men of Parliament 
 To hail the Rising Sun in numbers went. 
 
UNDER WHICH KING? 
 
 Some overjoyed, and with whole-hearted zeal, 
 Others pretending what they did not feel; 
 These latter said within themselves, ^The Throne 
 4s vacant, and the rightful owner gone; 
 He's fled from us, regardless of our need. 
 And thus from our allegiance are we freed; 
 A King de facto reigns; to him perforce 
 We bow — till matters take another course. ' 
 
 Thus some to William their allegiance swore, 
 But meant to bear allegiance none the more. 
 We call them false; yet much should we forgive 
 To folk perplexed, whose lot 'twas then to live. 
 Well might they tremble lest the King dejure 
 With French arms should return, and vengeful fury* 
 And, Reader, if you ridicule their fears. 
 Picture those Englishmen for fifty years 
 Confronted with one question constantly, 
 'Under which King, Bezonian? speak or die! 
 Cromwell or Charles? say quick, which do ye want? 
 Monmouth or James? Papist or Protestant ?' 
 For if, poor wights, they chose the wrong solution, 
 They presently were led to execution. 
 And therefore 'tis no matter for surprise 
 If divers deemed dissimulation wise, 
 Still less, if others thought it more discreet, 
 Like Temple, to their woods to make retreat, 
 To books and purling streams and shady grot. 
 Far from intrigue and plot and counterplot. 
 Far from the Tyrant's frown and Faction's noise. 
 False-swearing Oates and Shaftesbury's Brisk Boys, 
 
PROLOGUE 
 Small wonder then If many felt unsure 
 That this new Orange system would endure ; 
 And yet the hour had struck, that hour of fate, 
 To put the clock-hand back was now too late; 
 The new age opened, which a chasm wide 
 From all that went before it did divide; 
 An age of moneyed men. Parliamentarians, 
 Jobbers, Dissenters, Latitudinarians, 
 Of trimming and accommodating men, 
 Burnet for Sancroft, Tillotson for Ken, 
 An age when force no longer from Authority 
 Derived its sanction, but from a Majority. 
 
 Wherein consisted then this change prodigious, 
 By Whigs belauded with an awe religious? 
 And where most manifestly may we trace 
 The outward visible signs of inward grace? 
 Is it in Parliament we find the thing. 
 Now the supreme and many-headed King? 
 The Laws? They too from Parliament proceed; 
 Le Roy le veultvf\iz.tQYQT is decreed. 
 Or that the Judges keep their seats in peace. 
 No more obnoxious to the King's caprice, 
 But only to a vote of both the Houses? 
 True, this our pious gratitude arouses ; 
 Tho', when they sometimes grow senile, perverse, 
 Or play the licensed jester, (which is worse). 
 Greater facilities for their removal 
 Might win the Public's, and the Bar's, approval. 
 Yet these were mighty gains, as all must deem. 
 
THE RIGHT DIVINE 
 
 Justice and Law and Parliament supreme. 
 Great gains for us, and gains that still abide. 
 Was there no debit on the other side? 
 Something was lost; the Right Divine of Kings 
 Was thrown aside amongst forgotten things. 
 ^The Right Divine of Kings to govern wrong .^' 
 To Kings or Senates no such rights belong. 
 Whether by harsh oppression of the weak, 
 Or gross corrupting gold, their ends they seek, 
 The right to govern fails, both forfeit it 
 If they to govern rightly prove unfit. 
 
 Yet let us not contemn, as nothing worth, 
 Old thoughts of God's Vice-gerent here on earth. 
 To God and King men once their reverence paid, 
 So, when the worship of the King was stayed. 
 To God's own worship, by degrees, men brought 
 Zeal less sincere and less exalted thought. 
 The King of God's anointing having fled. 
 The King of the Convention ruled instead. 
 The false God fell, men saw his feet of clay, 
 In ruin absolute his temple lay; 
 The Priests, who had proclaimed his right divine, 
 To the usurping King did quick incline. 
 All but a faithful few, whom Conscience led 
 Into the wilderness to seek their bread. 
 The rest were willing to accommodate 
 Their doctrines to new doctrines of the State, 
 Still ministered, still plunged (not over-nice) 
 Their three-pronged flesh-hooks in the sacrifice; 
 
PROLOGUE 
 
 Whereby the Churchjthro' the next hundred years, 
 A somewhat fleshpot-loving Church appears. 
 Here was a blemish In this Settlement 
 So great and glorious and heaven-sent. 
 And verily 'twas glorious and great 
 For Nobles and for men of high estate; 
 These found there heads more easy to retain 
 Than in King Charles's or King James's reign. 
 Almost immune, alternately they sold 
 Their old King to the new^their new to th' old. 
 But though there was much less decapitation, 
 How profited by this New Dispensation 
 The lower humbler orders of the nation.'' 
 Were these then better-fed, more fortunate, 
 Richer in '89 than '88.? 
 
 Were the Laws milder .'^ Was there more relief 
 For debtor, or more mercy for the thief.'' 
 On Mondays, when the Sheriff's cavalcade 
 Down Oxford Road its mournful progress made. 
 Did those poor wretches in their tragic ride 
 On Somers' eloquence reflect with pride, 
 On Montagu, great Founder of our Debt, 
 On Junto broadening into Cabinet.'' 
 Did Protestant Succession guaranteed 
 Cheer and sustain them in their hour of need.'' 
 The mills of God ground slowly as before. 
 Slowly for all, but slowliest for the poor. 
 
 There is an ancient saying of the wise 
 ^No mortal man call happy till he dies;' 
 6 
 
DUTCH GREED 
 
 So on this Prince so great and glorious. 
 
 Who came and wrought such wondrous deeds for us. 
 
 Who, not from love of Whig nor hate of Tory, 
 
 But for a Church Reformed and love of glory, 
 
 Withstood the armies of the King of France 
 
 And saved us all from Popish dominance, — 
 
 On him fell many a blow of bitter fate. 
 
 Sickness and pain, assassins laying wait, 
 
 Unending toil of body, stress of mind. 
 
 Nine years of war ere Ryswick Peace was signed. 
 
 Counsellors double-faced and factious proved. 
 
 His dearest friend embittered and removed, 
 
 And — direst strokeofall — thelossof Queen beloved. 
 
 For our forefathers liked not overmuch 
 Their foreign monarch and his favoured Dutch. 
 They took from him his Guards, his joy and pride. 
 He begged them back, — his wish was still denied. 
 Worse than his Guards, his friends' esurience — 
 That vice of Dutchmen — gave a just offence. 
 Keppel and Bentinck, now not unrenowned 
 As English names, bore then an alien sound, 
 Names of newcomers, whose Batavian greed 
 On English manors was let loose to feed. 
 For their enrichment William took the blame. 
 Forgotten now was the Deliverer's fame; 
 Now was he ^Hooknose' to the multitude. 
 Now mocked by Anne as a Dutch Monster rude; 
 But agreat King was Hooknose, we must own 
 No greater ever filled our English Throne. 
 
r>6^ BEGINNING/ />6^ CENTURY 
 
 OF O R a magic wand some spell to cast 
 Whereby we might gain entry to the Past, 
 Bursting the veil of Time, with our own eyes 
 To see the things of bygone centuries! 
 That we might, only for one day's brief span, 
 Perambulate the London of Queen Anne, 
 And see men as they were! not thro' the haze 
 That distance or convention overlays — 
 The splendid Beaux parading in the Mall, 
 A troop of scarlet Life-guards in Whitehall, 
 Take boat to Vauxhall Stairs, taste Burton ale. 
 Therewith the music of the nightingale; 
 At coffee-house, where wiseacres are met, 
 Hear oracles expound the day's Gazette! 
 O might we at our idle fancy range 
 From Piccadilly to the Royal Exchange! 
 Pass by St. James, the splendour of the Court, 
 Then down Pall Mall, of Fashion the resort. 
 See the Strand's toy-shops and the Fleet's slow tide, 
 And all the merchandise of broad Cheapside, 
 Cit, soldier, courtier, tradesman, Templar vain. 
 Non-juring Priest, Corinna from the Lane, 
 See them and talk with them! Who would not pay 
 A year of life to live through such a day? 
 
 8 
 
THECALLOFTHEPAST 
 
 But, as to all the coming years may bring. 
 Who counts the secret worth the questioning? 
 For, as the State grows daily more tyrannical, 
 So grows our life more drab and more mechanical. 
 In herds, by rules, we live, — no idle words. 
 For drink we not by rules? and move in herds? 
 As now beneath the Earth, so soon in th* Air, 
 Cunning machines shall speed us everywhere; 
 And, while with whirring wings they dark the sky, 
 Huge lorries on the roads shall rumble by. 
 Unshaded thoroTares, hard wide and straight, 
 To Steam and Petrol wholly dedicate. 
 Bordered by Standard Homes, and Factories, 
 And garish Greekless Universities; 
 And over all, — Road, City, Home and School, 
 Earth, Air and Sea, — the Bureaucrat shall rule. 
 
 The Past is full of doubt, allure and mystery, 
 The Future a soon-opened book of History ; 
 Its content guess to-day by Reason's light — 
 Tomorrow you shall find you've guessed aright. 
 The Future ever clearer grows; the Past 
 Ever more dim, and fades away at last. 
 And they who lived therein — how hard to save 
 Their memory from oblivion and the grave! 
 Even the records that they leave behind 
 A just interpretation rarely find. 
 Through Church or Party spectacles perused, 
 That so confusion be the more confused. 
 Search all the libraries; go to the Rolls, 
 
T/^^ B E G I N N I N G ^//>^^ C E N T U R Y 
 
 Dig up unnumbered piles of ancient scrolls; 
 I magination still remains the Key- 
 That opes the Treasure-house of History, 
 The Guide, the Scale that weighs the false and true, 
 Thro' every Labyrinth an aiding Clue; 
 So, in default of Sense, what's past and over 
 We only by this faculty discover. 
 
 Why should this Eighteenth Century appear 
 So formal, artificial, insincere? 
 Is Chesterfield to blame, with his grimaces? 
 ^ Remember, oh! remember, boy, the Graces!' 
 But much we suffer from our own neglect. 
 If we the Graces fail to recollect. 
 Or Horace Walpole, whose unwearied pen 
 Distilled malicious letters — now and then? 
 Malicious, true; but in the balance weigh 
 The mass of information they convey. 
 All, who illume this Age with essays neat. 
 On Horace wait, he giveth them their meat. 
 Or his great Sire, (if Sire he was), who thought 
 No worse of politicians whom he 'd bought? 
 But he did not originate these fees. 
 From Danby first 'the jackdaws looked for cheese.' 
 Or Joseph Addison, so exquisite 
 In style, but in his sentiments so trite? 
 Yet he the quaint Sir Roger did create. 
 And Milton's might was first to demonstrate. 
 Still do we feel those times were overmuch 
 Infected with a ceremonious touch. 
 
 10 
 
AN AGE OF SHAMS? 
 
 Thus the Spectator was but ill content 
 
 With brave Sir Cloudesley Shovel's monument. 
 
 The rough old sea-dog not in seaman's rig 
 
 Stone-carven, but in robe and periwig. 
 
 For in this age men their own hair despised. 
 
 And tresses false for shaven scalps devised. 
 
 While women all the rules of grace offended 
 
 Wearing huge petticoats by wire distended; 
 
 And so the casual enquirer damns 
 
 This age of Hoops and Wigs as one of Shams; 
 
 But transient are Fashion's vain vagaries. 
 
 While Human Nature never greatly varies. 
 
 In later reigns, it may not be denied. 
 Luxury reigned and fribbles multiplied; 
 They flirted fans, and moved through minuets, 
 Curtseyed and bowed, precise as marionettes ; 
 Highwaymen, even when on plunder bent. 
 To trembling maids paid first a compliment. 
 And in gilt coaches unrepentant lords 
 To Tyburn drove, and hung from silken cords,— 
 Fantastic folk, who deemed this Universe 
 A stage whereon their postures to rehearse. 
 
 But in the reign of Anne, a reign of Fear, 
 Men were to stark realities more near; 
 If not a reign of Fear, at least of Doubt 
 When in bewilderment men looked about. 
 Fresh in their memory the fearful past. 
 And all their future prospect overcast, 
 Like Man in Pope's well-balanced estimate. 
 
r/;^ B E G I N N I N G <5///^^ C E N T U R Y 
 
 Placed on the Isthmus of a middle State, 
 
 In doubt a Guelph or Stuart to prefer, 
 
 A King from Versailles or from Hanover, 
 
 A King of Right Divine from Heaven sent 
 
 Or one whose right derived from Parliament; 
 
 And many doubted if 'twas ever just 
 
 The King of Right Divine from Throne to thrust. 
 
 There's many a mortal man that walks the earth 
 Enjoying much repute of solid worth. 
 Of brow serene, of prosperous affairs. 
 Well-fed, well-clothed, devoid (he seems) of cares; 
 He grows and grows, this wight so fortunate, 
 Knight, Baronet, Peer,Minister of State; 
 But still, for all his outward-happy mien. 
 An ancient scruple gnaws his breast unseen. 
 How if a desperate hazard did combine 
 With treacherous deed to found those fortunes fine? 
 How if he started with an an action ill. 
 His master's daughter stole, or robbed his till, 
 Some old offence himself cannot condone. 
 By all the world forgotten or unknown? 
 And so he thrives, and, spite of inward stains, 
 Keeps to the last his honours and his gains. 
 
 In her good fortune, like to such a man 
 Was England in the reign of good Queen Anne. 
 London was throng'd as ne'er before; on Change 
 Merchants from every clime made Babel strange; 
 In France and Flanders many a stricken field 
 The splendid valour of our troops revealed; 
 
 12 
 
SACHEVERELL 
 
 The Pen became as mighty as the Sword, 
 
 Authors, like Generals, earned a great reward ; 
 
 Poets on foreign embassies were sent, 
 
 And Essayists adorned the Government, 
 
 (Besides a tribe of writers less admired. 
 
 Who wrote for Whig or Tory — as required. 
 
 For even then our rulers found it wise 
 
 A Favourable Press to organize). 
 
 At Tunbridge, Epsom, Bath, the homely Cit 
 
 Rubbed shoulders with the Noble and the Wit. 
 
 It was an age, whatever else be said. 
 
 When Comfort was diffused, and Knowledge spread. 
 
 Yet in their opulence, with minds perplexed, 
 
 Men pondered till a problem old and vexed. 
 
 As with a conscience-stricken questioning, 
 
 ^Did we do well to rise against our King?' 
 
 How otherwise explain what things befell 
 When Parliament impeached Sacheverell? 
 
 What signified the dense adoring crowd? 
 The crush about his coach, the plaudits loud? 
 The daily progress through the roaring Strand? 
 The multitudes that pressed to kiss his hand? 
 And Country vied with London in acclaim. 
 Mayors and Vice-Chancellors to greet him came; 
 The bells rangout,withflagsthestreetsweredressed, 
 And mothers brought their infants to be blessed. 
 By scarce such wild huzzas was Monmouth cheered, 
 Scarce were the Seven Bishops more revered; 
 
 13 
 
T/;f B E G I N N I N G ^/ //f'^ C E N T U R Y 
 
 You'd say it was a King, or Prince at least, 
 Instead of a mere mediocre Priest. 
 How then does History make diagnosis 
 Of this remarkable Apotheosis? 
 
 Burnet ascribed it to the 'Men of Fashion,' 
 Whose secret arts excited vulgar passion, 
 And Lecky proved, at many pages' length. 
 It shewed the Church's influence and strength. 
 While Hallam, with this riddle unconcerned. 
 To problems of the Constitution turned. 
 Glad that the trial gave the Whigs a chance 
 Their orthodox Whig doctrine to advance. 
 For Lechmere and for Jekyll to expound 
 On subjects' rights, and Kings by compact bound, 
 And how the Subject on Necessity, 
 To justify Resistance, might rely; 
 (To which old Leeds added proviso sage. 
 Never without good prospects to engage). 
 Such were the the Articles, the Formulae, 
 The Tests, the Shibboleth of Whiggery; 
 And Whigs, twas feared, might put this Priest to deal 
 F"or want of well-pronouncing Shibboleth. 
 
 Alas! poor Whigs! who. Tyranny to break, 
 Had staked their lands and heads — and won the stake ; 
 Now, as they sit in Judgment-hall to curse 
 Those Stuart doctrines slavish and perverse, 
 What voices from the Courtyard rise and swell, 
 ' Sacheverell! Church and Sacheverell!' 
 The Church forsooth! a Tory institution 
 That looked askance at Glorious Revolution; 
 
 14 
 
FORGOTTEN WRONGS 
 
 The Church! whose idolized protagonist 
 
 Now boldly taught 'twas sinful to resist, 
 
 'A fearful sin, nothing can lessen it, 
 
 But be of cheer! this did ye not commit. 
 
 Against King James resistance there was none; 
 
 The Throne was vacant, and the King was gone.' 
 
 They lifted up their hearts, with joy were filled 
 
 For their uneasy consciences were stilled; 
 
 Their hands once more were clean, and should remain 
 
 For ever clean from foul Rebellion's stain. 
 
 Was then the People willing to recall 
 Their Stuart Kings? had they forgotten all.^ 
 The Shipmoney, the furious zeal of Laud, 
 The King's Exchequer filled by force and fraud, 
 Starchamber, members haled from Parliament, 
 Strafford on Liberty's destruction bent ? 
 And then the Restoration's wanton court. 
 Of 'Misses and Buffoons' the fit resort; 
 The secret-Papist King in pleasure lost. 
 Of which his master Lewis paid the cost.^ 
 Had they forgotten James, sullen and proud. 
 Harsh despot. Papist open and avowed, 
 Th' Assize of Blood, Churchmen from Oxford driven, 
 Packed juries and the Trial of the Seven? 
 
 Why, many of these grievous things, God wot. 
 They never knew, so could not have forgot; 
 Their tidings from the world scant and unsure. 
 And these the Pulpit's gloss would oft obscure. 
 
 15 
 
T/;. B E G I N N I N G < M^ C E N T U R Y 
 And, as to more notorious tales of wrong, 
 The English nourish not resentment long, 
 Hope better things from Son when Sire is dead, 
 Or deem the Sire by Counsellors misled. 
 The King was King; they cared not if the Crown 
 From Adam in tail male was handed down ; 
 Nor were they in the mazy doctrines skilled 
 Of Whig philosophy by Locke instilled. 
 How that the Peoples, then in Nature's state, 
 In conclaves met their Sovereigns to create. 
 Made Compacts, to which every man appended 
 His signature, and thus the business ended: 
 *Thou shalt be King, but, be it understood. 
 Only to reign as long as thou art good.' 
 No! Kings were Kings, not parties to a deed. 
 But born with rights of Kings to rule and lead. 
 
 Nor did the People debit to their Kings 
 Their punishments, misfortunes, sufferings. 
 Kings did not set them trembling in the dock. 
 Clamp them in pillories to stand a mock. 
 Through streets at cart-tailscourgethem nigh todea 
 Leave them at Tyburn choking out their breath. 
 On Jailer, Hangman, Judge these things they laid 
 For them no King was answerable made. 
 These were Earth's woes, which neither God in sk 
 Nor King in palace had to justify. 
 
 The King was King, — but still they could not bri 
 Their hearts to worship alien as King. 
 Whether he came with suite of grave Mynheers, 
 Or coaches crammed with Hanoverian clears, 
 
 i6 
 
THE SORROWS OF ANNE 
 For foreigner they felt an English scorn. 
 And turned to Anne, for Anne was English-born. 
 ^God bless your gracious Majesty! ' they cried, 
 ^Tell us youVe on the Church and Doctor's side/ 
 
 And who more fit than Anne to represent 
 Her age, its type and true embodiment, 
 Epitomizing in her private fate 
 The twofold tendencies that swayed the State? 
 A Stuart Queen, but not by Right Divine 
 Ordained to rule, like others of her line. 
 A Stuart Queen, but last of Stuart race. 
 Which soon to Hanover must yield its place. 
 A fruitful mother, whose sad progeny 
 All in their infancy were doomed to die; 
 A Protestant, from Papist father born. 
 And so 'twixt duty and religion torn; 
 In arms victorious, in commerce thriving. 
 But from her Father's fall her rule deriving ; 
 Thirsting for peace, by factions sore distraught. 
 And by her chosen Favourite set at naught. 
 
 Who would not grieve for Anne.^^ Imagine her 
 As some well-born and wealthy dowager. 
 Alone in her old Manor-house she lives. 
 And freely to the poor and needy gives. 
 Beloved by all the village-folk, not least 
 She showers bounties on the village Priest, 
 Whose church she has rebuilt — there every day 
 This most religious Lady goes to pray. 
 But her great household needs a master's eye, 
 c 17 
 
Tyf^^ B E G I N N I N G ^/ //^^ C E N T U R Y 
 
 Steward and bailiff quarrel constantly. 
 
 Her chamberlain and butler plague her sore. 
 
 And worse — they 're known to pilfer from her store 
 
 Next she confides her troubles to her maid, 
 
 Who on this condescension learns to trade; 
 
 And so, in time, this noble Lady grows 
 
 Suspicious, secret, brooding on her woes; 
 
 And then, because her own dear son is lost, 
 
 About her Heir her mind is tempest-tost. 
 
 For her fair Manor, since her issue failed. 
 
 Upon a distant Kinsman is entailed, 
 
 A rough and boorish man, who (she knows well) 
 
 Will seldom in the Manor come to dwell. 
 
 Nor set himself her people's love to gain, 
 
 Preferring much his own far-off demesne. 
 
 So oftentimes she muses on another, 
 
 Who might have been her Heir — her own young bn 
 
 A scapegrace, (but the village held him dear), 
 
 Could she make void for him that deed severe? 
 
 He writes and vows, 'Forgiveness I will merit 
 
 If only I be suffered to inherit.' 
 
 She half inclines her heart to his appeals. 
 
 More like a mother than a sister feels. 
 
 It may not be. The settlement must bind; 
 
 And stern trustees t'enforce it are assigned. 
 
 At last the Lady, wearied by her cares, 
 Takes to her bed and for her end prepares. 
 Of late by new-found lawyers she's been told 
 The deed is fraudulent, and will not hold; 
 'Tis put about the Lady has agreed 
 
 i8 
 
HAZARDS OF GREAT MEN 
 
 In formal manner to denounce the deed. 
 And, hoping his advantage may befall, 
 The Brother is seen lurking near the Hall. 
 But all too late the plot — the Lady dies. 
 And back to foreign lands the Brother flies. 
 
 This parable of Anne, if read aright. 
 Conveys a truth both obvious and trite. 
 That Kings and Ministers — for all their pride — 
 Are only private persons magnified; 
 Upon a larger stage their acts are played. 
 But by the same desires and motives swayed. 
 So long as they are flourishing and great 
 Rival dependents on their favours wait; 
 When they lie sick, expectant heirs beset them. 
 And then they die — and all men straight forget them. 
 
 Moreover, with ambition in the mind. 
 They hazard more than men of lesser kind; 
 E'en more than private persons they provoke 
 The smile of fickle Fortune, or her stroke. 
 
 Had William, when he sailed to free us all 
 From Popery, met gales Papistical ; 
 Had Marlborough not played a traitor's part. 
 Had James not fled with panic in his heart, 
 Whatmighthavebeentheoutcome.'^Whomayguess.^ 
 A hair divided ruin from success. 
 Suppose that younger brother of the Queen 
 Had on his own behalf more zealous been. 
 Had sought the painful means to gain his ends 
 And concentrate the service of his friends, 
 
 19 
 
T>^ er B E G I N N I N G ^/ / /^^ C E N T U R Y 
 
 Had somehow planned, when Anne to Heaven went 
 That not ArgylFs, but Ormonde's, regiment 
 Should march thro' London, what had been th' eve 
 Had Atterbury's counsel bold prevailed, 
 And James as King at Charing Cross been hailed, 
 Had England then another King restored, 
 What now would our historians record? 
 
 Perchance we might, to make conjecture well. 
 Seek from our parable the parallel. 
 
 The Brother then, say, put his fate to test. 
 Imagine him of Hall and lands possessed, 
 (The Kinsman foiled — but doubtless bides his time) 
 The villagers rejoice, the Church-bells chime. 
 On village green there's joy beyond control, 
 A cask is broached, an ox is roasted whole. 
 There 's feasting at the Hall, the Parson tries 
 To voice their general love — tears blind his eyes. 
 The Hall is full, there 's coming and there 's going 
 The stable's crammed, the Widow's wine a-flowing 
 The Youth is charming, gracious are his ways. 
 They drink his health, ^Long life and happy days! 
 But, day by day, the revel grows ; there 's dicing, 
 Dancing, deep drinking, lure of dames enticing; 
 The Youth goes late to rest and rises late, 
 Neglects the management of his estate; 
 Tenants with empty promises are fed. 
 Farms want repair — but rents are raised instead; 
 The Squire's led-captains, on bad errands sent. 
 Treat village maidens to gross compliment, 
 And some they tempt away from home, instal 
 
 20 
 
WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN 
 To live in guilty splendour at the Hall. 
 In Hall there 's riot, waste and wantonness. 
 In Village anger, discontent, distress. 
 They murmur, but the Parson preaches still, 
 'The Squire is Squire — may do whate'er he will,' 
 Till dawns the day when, rushing on his fate, 
 The mad Youth plots the Church to violate. 
 Within her walls says Masses shall be sung. 
 And shaven Priest intone, and censer swung. 
 The Villagers rebel — filled is the cup. 
 The Parson heads his flock — the game is up. 
 
 Soon is that Youth an exile poor again. 
 Nor long postponed the distant Kinsman's reign; 
 King Log succeeds King Stork without much pother, 
 King Faute-de-mieux^ King Can't-be-worse-than-t'other 
 
 This might have been. In fact, the Kinsman came 
 Hard on the death and funeral of the Dame, 
 Entered his heritage, — none said him nay, 
 (His family possesses it to-day) ; 
 A married man, but. Rumour said, his wife 
 In moated Grange led a sequestered life; 
 His fair consoling friends had this defect, — 
 Like him, they spoke a local dialect. 
 So here some agents saw to his affairs. 
 His former home employed his dearer cares. 
 There was his joy, his pleasure and his pride, 
 'Twas thither hastening in the end he died. 
 
 21 
 
7"/^^ COMING o//^f HANOVERIANS 
 
 Q 
 
 UEEN Anne is dead, her English heart is stilled ; 
 
 Queen Anne is dead, by wrangling Faction killed ; 
 
 (So did our noble Edward yield his breath. 
 
 By wrangling Faction hurried to his death.) 
 Queen Anne is dead; and now, for many a year, 
 The foreign-born shall rule our country dear. 
 
 With her the mystic part of Kingship ended, 
 Th' essential part, by us ill-apprehended, 
 Grace, Reverence and Worship — all those things 
 That once were signs and attributes of Kings, 
 The Touch, whereby th'afflicted, ('twas believed), 
 A benefit miraculous received, — 
 From Royal hand no more this virtue passed. 
 Of healing Kings and Queens was Anne the last. 
 Henceforward miracles were out of date; 
 Anne died, — and Whigs with Germans ruled the sta 
 
 A short ungainly Prince on errand vain 
 For England sailed in Charles the Second's reign; 
 A silent youth, in battle more at ease 
 Than formed in lady's drawing-room to please, 
 A warrior at fifteen, — brave was the race 
 Of Hanover, whate'er it lacked in grace. 
 ' Twas Anne he wooed, nor prospered in his wooing, 
 
 22 
 
ENTRY OF KING GEORGE I 
 
 ' Tis said that some intrigue was his undoing ; 
 'Tis said Dutch William, jealous of the plan. 
 Antagonized the facile mind of Anne. 
 The Merry Monarch thought this Prince, maybe, 
 Like George of Denmark, dull of company, 
 (Whom he tried drunk and sober, much annoyed 
 To find him, eitherways, of wit devoid). 
 Still, George of Hanover one honour earned, 
 Doctor of Laws of Cambridge he returned, 
 And in a twelve-month chose another mate, 
 A Bride unwilling — tragic was her fate. 
 
 A generation passes; George agam 
 At Greenwich lands, not now on errand vain, 
 Not now a Princeling ill-esteemed, unknown. 
 But King of England coming to his own ; 
 And with him come his two Sultanas dear, 
 Tall Schulemburg, beloved for many a year. 
 Stout Kilmansegg, (these, with politeness scant, 
 Our fathers called ' Maypole ' and ' Elephant '), 
 His Counsellors, Bernstorff and Robethon, 
 His Turks, and all his mercenary throng; 
 And fVas fur Plunder! must have been their cry. 
 When they the streets of London did espy. 
 
 A grand procession that September day 
 From Greenwich to St. James's dragged its way. 
 What wavingflags ! what boomingguns ! whatcheers ! 
 Esquires and Knights and Baronets and Peers, 
 Bishops and Judges, Ministers of State 
 In coaches pass; then, drawn by horses eight, 
 
 23 
 
Tyf^^ COMING^/ //^^HANOVERIANS 
 Seated in blazoned chariot of gold. 
 The King himself all glorious to behold ! 
 lo 'Triumph e! beat upon the drums. 
 And blow the trumpets loud! the Monarch comes! 
 And, bringing up the rear, a gorgeous pair. 
 Maypole and Elephant, those charmers fair. 
 
 At Southwark Mayor and Aldermen express 
 Their welcome in a dutiful address, 
 And George, who scarce one word of English knows, 
 Grunts once or twice, and on the pageant goes; 
 Onward this endless trail of coaches crawls. 
 O'er London Bridge, thro' City, past St. Paul's, 
 Down Ludgate Hill, thro' Fleet Street and the Stram 
 Pall Mall; and now St James's is at hand; 
 And now 'tis dark, flambeaux illume the gate 
 Where curious lackeys for their Master wait; 
 Then what unloading and what welcoming! 
 Turks, ladies, baggage. Counsellors and King! 
 This suite of rooms for Schulemburg is kept. 
 And that for Kilmansegg garnished and swept, 
 But far apart these suites, for (sad to state) 
 These dames illustrious each other hate. 
 Poor souls! they're tired and cross, they've travelle( 
 Gari'z schrecklichjene Promenade war, 
 HerrJe! wirhaben hunger, want some food. 
 And then a long night's rest will do us good, 
 Like Danag, to dream of George as Jove 
 In British guineas raining down his love. 
 By midnight, save some Hanoverian snore, 
 No sound is heard in hall or corridor; 
 
 24 
 
TANTUM RELIGIO — 
 
 Airs quiet, all the Palace noises cease. 
 
 The German King of England sleeps in peace. 
 
 Two hundred years ago was thus begun 
 The peaceful penetration of the Hun; 
 Princesses next from Anspach and Saxe-Gotha, 
 Mecklenburg, Brunswick, Meiningen came over, 
 From all the corners of the Reichsland sped 
 With Princes of our Royal house to wed. 
 Nor was it needful they should bring as dower 
 Riches or elegance or wit or power. 
 These we dispensed with, — only let the Bride 
 Be Protestant, we asked for nought beside. 
 
 Thus did our fathers foreign aid invoke. 
 And bowed themselves beneath a foreign yoke; 
 Thus English nobles brought themselves to beg 
 Favours from Schulemburgand Kilmansegg, 
 To an outlandish King their duty paid. 
 Who for their land a dull contempt displayed. 
 Could Protestant enthusiasm go 
 To greater lengths. f' Tantum Religio — 
 
 All these indignities, and many more, 
 To bar the Papist out, our fathers bore. 
 (Poor Martyrs! Let another Foxe arise 
 To chronicle their pious sacrifice!) 
 George too, to keep us Protestants secure. 
 The sadness of an exile must endure; 
 As William for his dykes and tulips pined. 
 So George's heart to Hanover inclined. 
 There his Old Palace stood; there, more ornate, 
 
 25 
 
n^ C O M I N G of the HANOVERIANS 
 
 The Leine Schloss for ceremonious state; 
 There Herrenhausen, with its hedges neat, 
 Fountains and limes, his mother's loved retreat. 
 There used his Sire his princely guests to cheer 
 With ginger, onions, sausage, cabbage, beer; 
 There had his Grandsire met a death desired. 
 And, a true German, glass in hand expired; 
 There by Precedence all things were decided, 
 And all mankind in classes were divided, — 
 First came Serenities, a sacred Caste, 
 Then by himself a lone Field-Marshal classed; 
 Next Generals and Counsellors, and then 
 High-well-born Pages, sons of Noblemen. 
 Then followed Fiddlers, Ushers and Physicians; 
 Then Coachmen, Cooks and folk of mean conditions 
 All in strict order ranged. There were his Court, 
 His Palaces, his kin, his Home in short. 
 
 So, by the banks of Thames, in London town, 
 George and his Hanoverians sat down. 
 Hanging their harps upon the willow-tree. 
 And wept, O Leine! when they thought of thee. 
 But, yielding not to enervating grief. 
 All from their Heimweh sought the same relief; 
 All tried their exile to alleviate 
 By filling up their maws insatiate. 
 If Robethon and Bernstorff were rapacious. 
 The Elephant and Maypole were voracious. 
 And e'en the Turks, in humbler roles, edacious. 
 (And let us not forget how Fraulein SchUtz 
 On self-enrichment exercised her wits; 
 
 26 
 
'HANOVER RATS' 
 The Fr^ulein borrowed jewels, but, alack! 
 The Frauiein never gave those jewels back.) 
 And so these greedy folk commissions took 
 Of all alike, from Minister to Cook, 
 And none might get a place without a bribe 
 Paid to some member of the venal tribe. 
 
 The English, with these harpies ill-content, 
 Tho' patient, sometimes showed they could resent, 
 As when the Maypole, jeered at in her ride, 
 ' Ve kom here vor your goots, goot pippleP cried, 
 ^Aye, damn ye, for our chattels too ! ' a Voice replied. 
 That Voice sounds faintly from a distant age. 
 But then in Mart and Tavern swelled with rage; 
 Yet only with Imagination's aid 
 Is now that rage intelligible made. 
 For Whigs were men of infinite address, 
 So George enjoyed a favourable Press. 
 The Whig has always told a better story. 
 When writing up his party, than the Tory. 
 The Tory knows he's right, and and goes to sleep; 
 The Whig W\\\ prove he's right, and argues deep. 
 The Whig in libraries his leisure spends. 
 The Tory more to sport and pastime tends. 
 Whate'er the cause, — of how the Nation viewed 
 Their German King and his entourage lewd, 
 Their manners weird and peculation sordid. 
 Not much have our historians recorded ; 
 But rough Squire Western's curses indicate 
 A violent and unavailing hate. 
 
 27 
 
n^ COMING^/ //^^HANOVERIANS 
 
 S05 to convert his fellow-countrymen. 
 Grave Addison employed a famous pen. 
 And came to a conclusion strange and big 
 By proving Queen Elizabeth a Whig! 
 With tongue in cheek, he set himself to write, 
 ^The Court of Hanover is most polite,' 
 But more sincere, when, in an Essay fine, 
 He paid a tribute just to Caroline, 
 A wise Princess, to whom the King of Spain 
 His splendid projfFer made, but made in vain ; 
 Firm she refused to share a Papist's throne, 
 (True was her instinct, — as was clearly shown 
 In after years, when her opinions ran 
 In channels Latitudinarian). 
 
 Yes, all that rendered Hanover polite 
 Derived from ladies beautiful and bright. 
 Queen Caroline, with whose sagacious aid 
 Walpole for years the realm of England sway'd; 
 The great Electress, looking down serene 
 At Herrenhausen on her courtiers mean; 
 Still in the garden is her statue seen. 
 Seated, a stately figure, lofty-browed, 
 'Heiress of Britain' was her title proud. 
 Whose daughter, first of Prussia's Queens, despised 
 Her Court's absurd routine, and exercised 
 Her intellect in Metaphysic high. 
 Discoursing on the Wherefore of the Why, 
 But th' Infinitely Little, easier quest. 
 She found in Ceremony's trappings dressed. 
 
 28 
 
AN UNCROWNED QUEEN 
 
 Fairest of all was that Princess of Zell, 
 
 Who loved alas! not wisely, but too well, 
 
 Sophia Dorothea, brightly shone, 
 
 Irradiating beauty from a throne, 
 
 Shone for a season, then was veiled her light, 
 
 For ever 'whelmed in a disastrous night, 
 
 A Queen uncrowned, a wife condemned and spurned^ 
 
 Captive in Ahlden's gloomy Schloss interned. 
 
 In endless solitude year follows year. 
 
 She gazes out across the marshes drear. 
 
 Thus she grows old, while unkind Death delays 
 
 To put a term to all her wasted days; 
 
 At last he throws his dart, the Captive dies. 
 
 And in a nameless tomb forgotten lies. 
 
 Of George's wife such was the tragic fate, 
 A mystery to England'dark and great; 
 Some said he murdered her, prone to impute 
 111 deeds to foreign despots absolute. 
 Exaggerating what they could not know, 
 Omne ignotumpro magnifico; 
 In lands beyond the Rhine reigned tyrants still. 
 Where Law, they knew, restrained no tyrant's will. 
 
 George, then, with reputation overcast 
 Arrived; in modern phrase, ^he had a past.' 
 Men murmured hints of action more than shady, 
 Of sinister behaviour to a lady. 
 For worst suspicions secresy gives ground, — 
 Had she been duly tried, and guilty found 
 Of harbouring a gallant in her bower. 
 And sent for execution to the Tower, 
 
 29 
 
T^^ COMING ^/M(? HANOVERIANS 
 All such proceedings had been well and good, 
 But hugger-mugger was not understood. 
 
 Sometimes, when wife and husband love no longer 
 The father's love for son grows all the stronger; 
 Not so with George, — hateful his son became, 
 In the next generation 'twas the same. 
 The Second George abominated Fred, 
 And Caroline oft vowed she wished him dead; 
 This George and Caroline did all excel. 
 As champion son-haters bore the bell; 
 The secret of their hate Time may unfold, 
 (Walpole and Hardwicke knew, but never told). 
 Poor Fred died early, — scarce was George the Thirc 
 Grown old enough his hate to have incurred. 
 By George the Third the process was restored. 
 For George the Fourth was royally abhorred. 
 And steeled against her son was Charlotte's heart. 
 Like Caroline, she took the father's part. 
 No son had George the Fourth, but in his place 
 Hated his daughter, holding true to race. 
 
 Was this the curse that Ahlden's prisoner. 
 Dying, bequeathed the House of Hanover, 
 Domestic discord, breaking out anew 
 As each rebellious son to manhood grew. 
 Unseemly broils in Palace, son expelled. 
 From care maternal tender babes withheld, 
 Unkingly doings, scorned by decent men. 
 But welcome theme of Hervey's treacherous pen? 
 
 30 
 
THE PRINCE IN OPPOSITION 
 
 Or was it the mere German martinet 
 On brutal methods then, as ever, set? 
 (Witness that Prussian King, who caned his heir, 
 And hardly was induced his life to spare). 
 Or of the problem should we find solution 
 In our own perfect British Constitution? 
 Two Parties — one in Opposition pines, 
 Attracts the Prijice; he with its leaders dines, 
 Defies the King, and as their Patron shines, — 
 But leaves them in the lurch as soon as crowned, 
 (So poor Jack FalstafFwas by Hal disowned). 
 
 These sad dissensions with the Georges ended, 
 Domestic strife no more the Court offended. 
 Simple sea-faring William broke the spell. 
 Who with his young Fitz Clarences lived well. 
 Now could we boast again of English kings. 
 Whatever their failings or their shortcomings. 
 'Tis true that later, in Victoria's reign. 
 Uprose the German influence again. 
 Commemorated by a strange Memorial; 
 But now 'twas different, 'twas professorial, 
 'Twas German Culture, more concerned about 
 Science and Art than Beer and Sauerkraut. 
 Kultur? O word of woe! God send victorious 
 Our House of W i n d so r, happy, great & glorious ! 
 
 Too far we've wandered offdown History's track : 
 Let 's for a moment brief to George hark back. 
 Let 's don a bran-new Birthday-suit to show 
 
 31 
 
T;^^ COMING ^//y^^ HANOVERIANS 
 We're loyal, at his Levee make our bow. 
 Into the Presence crush, (how we perspire !) 
 Receive a Royal grunt, and so retire. 
 CrammedistheDrawing-Room;butwherearefoun 
 The Wits and Statesmen that made Anne renowned 
 No more at Court they're seen, in Senate-house 
 Declaim, nor at their friendly clubs carouse. 
 They bend before the storm, wilt, tremble, cower; 
 Where's Oxford.'^ Safe mewed up within theTowei 
 Prior's in prison, Bolingbroke is banished; 
 From London Pope and Swift and Steele have vani: 
 The Whigs are 'in,' — no rivals will they brook; 
 The Tories 'out,' — for quarter may not look. 
 Townshend, precise and passionate, bears sway. 
 And 'Bob, the Poet's Foe, ' shall have his day. 
 
 32 
 
rhe WHIG DOMINATION 
 
 'Fuimus Tores^ 
 
 H 
 
 OW FEARFULLY those wicked Angels fell 
 
 Who dared against Almighty God rebel! 
 
 O what an overturn! a gulf how great 
 Betwixt their present and their former state! 
 Then Seraphs bright, serene, ethereal, 
 Inhabiters of homes celestial; 
 Now Devils — pain unending is their lot. 
 In fire unquenched, where the worm dieth not, 
 To God's eternal vengeance victims given, 
 Expelled from mercy, grace and hope of Heaven. 
 
 So fell the Tories; and their ruin seemed. 
 Like Lucifer's, never to be redeemed. 
 So some lamented, some despaired, in pride 
 Some found support, and Tyranny defied. 
 Pride stayed them fainting, and their spirit fired. 
 And conscious merit to resist inspired. 
 Indeed, in sequence, their offence was quite 
 To that of fallen Angels opposite. 
 For first were Tories from their Heaven expelled, 
 Then, in resentment, some (not all) rebelled, 
 Who thereupon a fatal voyage made. 
 Whereby their adversary's game they played. 
 
 ^ .33 
 
The WHIG DOMINATION 
 
 ThusBolingbroke, by Whigs cast out and spurned 
 Took umbrage and to the Pretender turned. 
 
 Now did the Whigs, a bold united band, 
 Monopolize the power of the land. 
 Office, and Wealth (which then from Office flowed), 
 And Honour was on Whigs alone bestowed. 
 Rich Bishoprics, opulent Deaneries, 
 Ships, Regiments and Lord-Lieutenancies, 
 All were by Whigs engrossed; and Whigs alone 
 Had influence, and access to the Throne. 
 The Seals, and all the legal prizes went 
 To Whigs, and yet the Whigs were not content; 
 For Whigs alone, the Tories to incense. 
 Were chosen rural Justice to dispense. 
 Promotion came neither from East nor West, 
 Nor North nor South, except for Whigs professed; 
 To oust and ostracize, proscribe and ban 
 One half of England, was the Whiggish plan. 
 
 Surely, we say, 'twas neither wise nor right 
 To wreak on Tories such revengeful spite. 
 These too were Englishmen ; could they be blamed. 
 If in their Government some share they claimed 
 To their just influence proportionate.^ 
 Why brand them all as lepers of the State.'^ 
 Why give all Tory dogs the name decried 
 Of Jacobite, then hang them up untried.f^ 
 Now was the season, now the blessed chance 
 To stifle hate, and practise tolerance, 
 
 34 
 
MODERN POLITICS 
 
 To bring in all, let all alike partake. 
 And Faction's persecuting paths forsake. 
 Is not then Walpole, by this argument. 
 Convict of greed and self-aggrandizement? 
 And can we read, without a pitying tear. 
 The tragedy of Bolingbroke's career, 
 An Ishmael, to doubtful courses driven. 
 And by his jealous rival ne'er forgiven? 
 
 And so we mourn for Bolingbroke. But stay, 
 Then Politics were stern ; 'twas not their way 
 To bandy compliments, as man and maid 
 Philander 'neath an oak's romantic shade; 
 Nor, like our modern Statesmen, simulate 
 In House of Commons fury, scorn and hate. 
 Abuse each other there as worst of sinners. 
 Then treat each other to the best of dinners. 
 In Senate bitter foes, but, at week-ends, 
 Foregathering in country-house as friends; 
 Or, in still later style, make no pretence 
 Of Principles*, or keep them in suspense. 
 All in one Government together pressed. 
 Uniting in a Coalition blest. 
 The Lion and the Lamb, O wondrous sight! 
 Their reconstructive energies unite 
 In indispensable communion bound. 
 Since an Alternative is nowhere found. 
 
 For Politics are now a player's game; 
 He wins, he fails, — for him ' tis much the same. 
 One plans an expedition ; what 's th' event ? 
 Lives, treasure, ships, munitions vainly spent. 
 
 35 
 
T/^^WHIGDOMINATION 
 
 One levies taxes new, financier sage, 
 Whose scanty crop scarce pays the harvest-wage. 
 Fear not for them ; although they call the tune, 
 The Country pays the piper, — they're immune. 
 
 In Walpole's day 'twas quite another story, 
 'Twas no half-hearted strife 'twixt Whig and Tory 
 Whose warrior-grandsires let the Sword decide. 
 And fought for King or Parliament, and died. 
 For vanquished prison, death and banishment, 
 Vae Victis! and their spoils to victors went. 
 Consider too the private men who dared 
 Climb to great place and power, how they fared, 
 Both those who failed, and those whose eminence 
 And wealth to jealous monarchs gave offence, 
 Their place how perilous, how brief their power. 
 How soon thro' Traitor's Gate they stepped within 
 
 the Tower, 
 How some were doomed to die, some forfeited 
 Their fine estates, others as exiles fled. 
 Who loses, pays; nay more, 'twas written plain. 
 Who plays must lose, howe'er at first he gain. 
 Duke Buckingham to Wolsey fell a prey. 
 For Wolsey too next came the reckoning-day. 
 Wise Thomas More, unwise Northumberland, 
 Rash Essex, once Eliza's favourite grand, 
 Strafford and Laud, whom Charles was powerless 
 To save, knew changing Fortune's bitterness; 
 Then the King's Judges found their state reversec 
 Hanged, drawn and quartered. Regicides accursed 
 Some fall by perjured Oates; the blood is spilt 
 
 36 
 
PRUDENT WHIGS 
 
 Of Russell drawn within assassins' guilt; 
 Then wretched Monmouth begs his life in vain. 
 Then Tyranny goes down, for ever slain. 
 A woeful catalogue, — Ambition's dreams. 
 Vaulting desires, mad hopes, frustrated schemes. 
 
 But these were Traitors, therefore rightly went 
 Through Traitor's Gate to their justpunishment? 
 Not all; some were by coward Kings betrayed, 
 Whom Faction base or angry Mob dismayed, 
 Others, with minds too shining for their age. 
 Fell sacrificed to superstitious rage. 
 Yet some were Traitors; Walpole also knew 
 That 'mongst his foes were traitors not a few. 
 Traitors to what.f' be it well understood 
 These desperate Tories were of English blood. 
 Were rooted in the soil, and loved their land 
 Where now the Whigs enjoyed the upper hand; 
 Not enemies of England call this folk. 
 Rather of George and Hanoverian yoke; 
 But, pray consider, had George lost his Throne, 
 Would Walpole and the Whigs have mercy known? 
 
 How stands it then .f^The Whigs were well-advised 
 If life's uncertainties they recognized; 
 To make the future safer for the Whig 
 Entrenched themselves, as wary soldiers dig 
 To guard against a stronger foe's impact, 
 Their first-dug trench was called Septennial Act; 
 Vile politics; but, then, to save one's skin 
 Is not such an unpardonable sin. 
 
 37 
 
The WHIG DOMINATION 
 Simply self-preservation was the key 
 Of their excluding jealous policy; 
 'Twas the condition of this dangerous game, 
 Would not their enemies have done the same? 
 
 A game still dangerous; and yet, 'tis clear. 
 Losers now paid a forfeit less severe. 
 Time was when Crookback cried ^ Off with his head 
 By Paul, I will not dine till he be dead. ' 
 But Walpole dined, serene and unafraid, 
 Without recourse to this digestive aid. 
 Forgetting business, by no cares oppressed. 
 Enjoyed his bottle, laughed his ribald jest. 
 At least no cruel deeds his memory stain ; 
 The age itself, perhaps, grew more humane; 
 Impeached were many — still this treatment held 
 For statesmen from high offices expelled. 
 But none by Whigs to execution sent 
 Save those who armed against the Government. 
 So call the Whigs a caste exclusive, proud. 
 But not ferocious — this must be allowed. 
 Nor, even had they wished it, could they bend 
 The Courts of Law to serve a vengeful end. 
 Now Justice wielded an impartial Sword, 
 The cruelty of Jeffreys was abhorred. 
 And upright Judges feared not to incur 
 The fury of a King or Minister. 
 
 Imagine too this land for seventy years 
 Tormented by uncertainties and fears, 
 How all men longed for a securer life 
 Free from the horrors of domestic strife, 
 
 38 
 
BOLINGBROKE 
 
 Stable, perdurable; — but could they look 
 For this stability from Bolingbroke? 
 
 So here's a test; do we commiserate 
 Bolingbroke's baulked career, deplore his fate, 
 Discover him, (what Plato wished to find), 
 A Statesman and Philosopher combined, 
 An intellect exalted and serene 
 Soaring above this sordid earthly scene, 
 A patriot, who held in scorn sublime 
 The mercenary Factions of his time, 
 The Whiggish faction, with its selfish bent. 
 On England's welfare less than Whigs' intent? 
 Or must we picture him as Whigs portray. 
 False traitor and the Villain of the Play? 
 
 To them he seemed a rebel, as rebelled 
 Bedzebub, and was from Heaven expelled, 
 Bedzebub, for eloquence renowned. 
 And in his ruin still majestic found. 
 Plotting in Hell, (as Bolingbroke in France), 
 Against the justice of God's ordinance. 
 
 Truth only comes by weighing good and ill; 
 Few men are Angels, Devils fewer still. 
 Neither was Bolingbroke — Priests' raging zeal 
 Raised him to power in the Commonweal; 
 But he, from zeal religious far removed, 
 Sacheverell's loud clamour ne'er approved. 
 Despised the rage of Priests, had eyes to see 
 Problems of Church and State in outlook free; 
 
 39 
 
The WHIG DOMINATION 
 
 Far-seeing, wise, extended views on Trade, 
 On Home and Foreign politics displayed ; 
 Knew England's interest, gave her release 
 From wasting War, near thirty years of Peace; 
 But was he stable? first his record scan. 
 Then judge him as a man — and Englishman. 
 
 This brilliant Bolingbroke, while Anne was Queer 
 Staked all his fortune on what might have been 
 Had she lived longer, — but too soon she died. 
 And his unripe designs ne'er fructified. 
 James lost his chance; so Bolingbroke, instead. 
 To George with proffers of his duty sped. 
 Thrice at the Coronation bowing low. 
 But George no sign of favour deigned to show. 
 Impeached, attainted, what his next resort.^ 
 To Commercy and James's Shadow-Court, 
 Where Irish papists, Scotch fanatics schemed, 
 And Olive Trant in council was esteemed; 
 Where they devised those wondrous expeditions. 
 That only wanted armies, stores, munitions. 
 In these deliberations Bolingbroke, 
 As holder of the Shadow-Seals, partook, 
 Heard James's mistresses hold hot debate 
 With Priests and spies, — and cursed his bitter fate. 
 Than he BeSlzebub more nobly fared. 
 Who with his bold compeers Hell's torments shared ; 
 For Bolingbroke, constrained with fools to league. 
 Was made the victim of a fool's intrigue; 
 Thwarted, undone, of Shadow-Seals bereft. 
 Scorn in his heart, this wretched scene he left. 
 
 40 
 
AN ENGLISH ALCIBIADES? 
 
 Then, wearying of exile, favour sought 
 
 From greedy Schulemburg and pardon bought. 
 
 Came home, — we see him in his later age 
 
 Of yet another Shadow-Court the Sage; 
 
 But, like Queen Anne before, poor Fred expires 
 
 And disappoints all Bolingbroke's desires. 
 
 Thus did vain Fortune Bolingbroke forsake, 
 Who staked on Princes' lives, and lost his stake. 
 A man misrepresented by his foes. 
 Maligned, maliciously kept out? who knows .^ 
 Only God knows men's hearts, how they thro' hate, 
 Ambition, injured pride, rush on their fate. 
 At least concede he spoilt his future chance 
 By keeping such ill company in France, 
 111 friends to England, since it was to Rome 
 These looked as their true spiritual home. 
 
 At Athens Alclbiades the Splendid 
 In beauty, birth and eloquence transcended; 
 In vices, too, pre-eminence he reached, 
 (Vainly old Socrates those sermons preached). 
 This Superman, recalled from his command. 
 To Sparta fled, betrayed his native land. 
 The Spartans to the Persians next betrayed. 
 And thus their hospitality repaid. 
 Two blacks made white to those Athenian eyes. 
 They pardoned him, renewed his dignities. 
 Honours and wealth restored ; but were th' Athenians wise 
 
 Imagine this Lord Alclbiades 
 At Charles's Court, how formed the King to please! 
 
 41 
 
The WHIG DOMINATION 
 
 Handsome, profuse, bold, impudent, — Od's fish! 
 What better could the Merry Monarch wish ? 
 A willing Papist next in James's reign ; 
 When James has fled, a Protestant again; 
 Then, if promoted General by Anne, 
 Busied his own Dictatorship to plan. 
 All this he might have been, — and yet, I trow. 
 Our British Walpole would have laid him low. 
 
 Can we call Walpole great .^ Great men are rare. 
 Great Englishman.'^ So much we may declare. 
 Courage was his, a heart that never quavered 
 Whatever the odds, a nerve that never wavered. 
 Alone he stood and on himself relied. 
 Strong in his own resource for years defied 
 His Tory foes, and, one by one estranged. 
 His own old friends with Tory foes new-ranged; 
 Dauntlessly faced the eloquence and wit 
 Of Pulteney, Windham, Carteret and Pitt. 
 Aged and retired, he heard his master calling, 
 Posted to town, tho' racked by pain appalling; 
 Thus, true till death, his loyal service gave. 
 And well might George avow, ^This man is brave. ' 
 
 Then Walpole was magnanimous and kind. 
 To mercy more than justice still inclined; 
 A hospitable friend, the day's work done, 
 By easy manners charming everyone; 
 Unlike most Whigs, whose stiff address repelled 
 And minor mortals at due distance held. 
 
 But well he knew the craft of Government, 
 
 42 
 
WALPOLE'S COMMON-SENSE 
 
 Wherein his whole laborious life was spent, 
 The Government of England, — how, and when, 
 Likewise how much^ to govern Englishmen, 
 No theorist, deducing laws and rules 
 From axioms, (as Doctors use in schools). 
 Fond premises ending in vain conclusions. 
 Absurdities, injustices, confusions. 
 No, Walpole, though he saw his scheme was wise, 
 Refused to force his measure of Excise; 
 The country raved for Customs; 'be it so,' 
 Quoth Walpole, 'let this dance no further go.' 
 O that our Bureaucrats would emulate 
 His saving sense, and their conceit abate! 
 
 What was his fault? to use his own rough term, 
 He meant to be Sole Partner in the Firm, 
 (A fine Concern, with Profits unexpected. 
 Only the Fund Reserved was much neglected). 
 He nursed our trade, and, watching it increase 
 By leaps and bounds, presumed eternal peace. 
 So starved the Services, — that good old plan 
 To Gladstone dear, and Campbell-Bannerman. 
 Thick are the mists of Party, that obscure 
 The sun of Country radiant and pure. 
 'Tis true the party-leader must devise 
 Makeshift, expedient and compromise, 
 But they 're for Party; higher is the State, 
 August, immortal, one, inviolate. 
 The ruler who, for Party's base respects. 
 Her safety, honour, interest neglects, 
 Or who prosperity to strength prefers, 
 
 43 
 
The WHIG DOMINATION 
 Is earthy of the earth, and blindly errs. 
 Earthy was Walpole, like an oak-tree sound. 
 Tough British oak, deep-rooted in the ground. 
 Trees cling to earth, but Heaven gives stars their ligh 
 Verses on stars are easier to write. 
 Tho', sure, if worth averse stout Walpole 's reckoned, 
 The debt is due from George the First and Second, 
 For, unsupported by that stubborn will. 
 The House of Hanover had fared but ill. 
 
 Two other Whigs stand out from Whigdom's thn 
 And this in common had — both flourished long. 
 One was a Duke, not eminently wise. 
 But passing rich in borough-merchandise; 
 And one a Judge whom lawyers still revere. 
 In Law and Equity without a peer. 
 
 Some Whigs, in spite of Glorious Revolution, 
 Lived chequered lives, knew stress and diminution ; 
 Some angered Walpole, and their places lost. 
 Some of Elections learned to rue the cost; 
 Som*e in the South Sea foundered, some again 
 Subscribed to Companies with projects vain — 
 As for Importing Jackasses from Spain, 
 Or schemes for Making Oil from Sunflower-seed, 
 Their sober Whiggish wits obscured by greed. 
 And some of peculation were suspected; 
 One poison took, fearing to be detected. 
 Most Whigs felt earthly woes, and now and then 
 Into misfortune came like other men; 
 
 44 
 
HARDWICKE'S GREAT CAREER 
 
 But Hardwicke in such pathways never roved. 
 His course from crime and folly far removed. 
 O Barristers-at-law, for briefs who wait. 
 Was not this Hardwicke wondrous fortunate? 
 Was it not well, in Whigdom's Golden Age, 
 To wear the Gown, and with the Whigs engage? 
 Law-Officer, Chief Justice, Chancellor — 
 All Offices that lawyers hunger for 
 To ^Philip Homebred' in succession came. 
 And forty years of wealth and legal fame. 
 With Whig dominion, almost year for year, 
 How well was synchronized this great career! 
 How did he rise? by intellect and learning. 
 And tireless toil — but Patron add discerning. 
 Spotless the robe of Justice that he wore. 
 And even Campbell, curious to explore. 
 Found no worse blemish in his private life 
 Than fetching oysters for his master's wife. 
 From office-desk to Woolsack! much, 'tis plain, 
 He owed to Patron, character and brain; 
 But 'twas the strong Whig tide propulsive flowing, 
 The good Whig breeze continuously blowing. 
 That steady-moving tide, that even gale 
 Prospered his voyaging and filled his sail. 
 Until his barque, untried by tempest's rage. 
 Laden with gold reached Wimpole's anchorage. 
 
 I wish some competent and and practised hand 
 Would help us Newcastle to understand. 
 Explain his secret springs, and clear present 
 
 45 
 
T>5^^ WHIG DOMINATION 
 The meaning of this human document. 
 Sichel, who Sheridan and Bollngbroke 
 So deep has analysed, should write the book; 
 Or, as a fit recorder, may we ask 
 Lord Rosebery to undertake the task? 
 
 The very name Newcastle stands to us 
 For hurry, muddle, foolishness and fuss, 
 For something quaint, absurd, ridiculous. 
 We think of him, by order of the King, 
 Unwelcome Sponsor at a christening; 
 We hear the Prince insult, with fury wild. 
 And challenge the Godfather of his child. 
 Years after, at this Prince's obsequies. 
 We see Newcastle dab his streaming eyes; 
 ' Tis manifest he's overwhelmed with grief. 
 One hand manipulates his handkerchief. 
 And one his monocle, through which he peeps, 
 And now he peeps and now again he weeps. 
 Then, suddenly, because his feet are cold. 
 To stand on Cumberland's long train makes bold. 
 
 A figure of High Comedy? grotesque 
 More often, and descending to Burlesque. 
 The Pantaloon of Politics? not quite; 
 Your Pantaloon's a foolish harmless wight; 
 One needs be something more than feckless fool 
 The Underworld of Whiggery to rule. 
 Know you that Mansion in The Fields? a hive 
 Of buzzing lawyers now, that toil and thrive; 
 In days when those were Fashion's Fields, there dwell 
 Newcastle, and with curious clients dealt. 
 
 46 
 
Ty^^ CLIENTS ^/NEWCASTLE 
 There some, by crowns ill-spared to Porter proud, 
 Admittance gained, a shabby threadbare crowd; 
 In ante-room they wait — these suitors poor, 
 And watch with hungry looks the closet door, 
 Nerving themselves the great man to approach, 
 Should he come forth and hurry to his coach. 
 Others get quicker audience; — truth to tell, 
 These men have marketable wares to sell. 
 Votes, boroughs, influence, — things to be sold 
 For titles, places, ribands, bags of gold. 
 Sometimes a country caller proves inept 
 And sells for promises — which are not kept. 
 Is ^bubbled' by the Duke, (expressive word. 
 And in this Eighteenth Century much heard), 
 He's paid with compliments, his hand is pressed, 
 Parting he's slobbered over, hugged, caressed. 
 In general the market-rate rules all, — 
 Just as on Change, quotations rise and fall; 
 And sure, Newcastle knows his market well. 
 No Jobber better skilled to buy or sell. 
 No Noble of romance, no Chevalier, 
 Was this perverse and pettifogging peer; 
 In governing he spent laborious days, 
 But ruled in crooked and inglorious ways. 
 Macaulay spared him not, called him a vent 
 Through which was drained the filth of Government. 
 (Thus later Whigs, of morals unsurpassed. 
 Their predecessor Whigs with censure blast). 
 But who are we to cast the stone? The game 
 Played by Newcastle still goes on the same. 
 
 47 
 
The WHIG DOMINATION 
 Who pays to Party, from that fountain pure 
 Of Honour may refreshment still secure. 
 Still are recalcitrants somehow placated, 
 Still certain folk are Peers and Knights created; 
 In our superior enlightened age 
 There's still a Market, still a Brokerage. 
 
 Moreover on a more extensive scale 
 The thing is done, not Bribes but Doles prevail; 
 We're back to bold Jack Cade, who made decree, 
 ^The three-hooped pot henceforth shall ten-hoope 
 'Ninepence for fourpence!' Who supplies the pelf 
 Newcastle often paid the bribe himself. 
 Three hundred thousand pounds the poorer died; 
 This to his credit stands — if nought beside. 
 
 As in fair palaces are rooms of State 
 With furniture and tapestry ornate, 
 Wherein distinguished persons congregate. 
 But offices and kitchens underground 
 To meet their baser needs are also found; 
 So, in a famous House of Government, 
 Lived haughty Pitt, in suite magnificent. 
 There he to Admirals and Captains brave. 
 To Wolfe and Hawke, inspiring counsel gave; 
 There had his genius scope, vast schemes he planner 
 For making England great by sea and land. 
 'Tis in those lower regions we must look 
 For Newcastle — imagine him the Cook! 
 Do him the justice that he does not shirk 
 Less dignified, but necessary, work. 
 
 48 
 
ZENITH of the WHIGS 
 
 For Pitt had fretful tastes ; at any hour 
 
 Might feel disposed some chicken to devour; 
 
 Such was the eccentricity of Pitt 
 
 That chickens need be always on the spit. 
 
 May not the Duke's majority so steady 
 
 Be likened to those chickens ever-ready? 
 
 A/ow/ majority? the pun's absurd — 
 
 Still Pitt was nourished by this humble bird. 
 
 Without Newcastle's efforts underground 
 
 Would Pitt have ever won his name renowned ? 
 
 Would London have exulted at the fall 
 
 Of Pondicherry, or of Montreal? 
 
 The Whigs have prospered since those days of old 
 
 When they were plotters desperate and bold. 
 
 Then they risked all, now they've got everything — 
 
 Place, power, wealth, a manageable King. 
 
 What now are Jacobites? why, no great matter, 
 
 A few in Oxford's Common-rooms still chatter. 
 
 Or Tories? these applaud each new Gazette 
 
 Like Whigs, and candles in their windows set. 
 
 Whigs are supreme, unchallenged in the land; 
 
 ^Empire and Liberty' — for both they stand. 
 
 Only, for all their power, wealth and wit. 
 
 They must attend the chariot of Pitt. 
 
 War-chariot sublime ! triumphant ride ! 
 
 Newcastle shambles awkwardly beside. 
 
 Fox, a camp-follower in hopes of gain. 
 
 And all the Chiefs of Factions join the Hero's train. 
 For Whigs are now in Factions ranged; no more 
 e 49 
 
The WHIG DOMINATION 
 A band of Brothers, as in days of yore. 
 Did Newcastle a moment ever spare 
 From business, looking out upon the Square, 
 ('Tis now a pleasant place where children play. 
 And idlers lounge the live-long summer day). 
 And think, ^Here Russell bowed his noble head, 
 Resigned his soul to God, for Freedom bled'? 
 What 's Russell's grandson now? not quite so glori( 
 As Patron of the Bloomsbury Gang notorious. 
 A gang forsooth! of thieves, as 'twere, possessed 
 With ill designs upon the public chest. 
 But all things have their term — first, throes of birth. 
 Youth, manhood, then decay, then Earth to Earth. 
 ^ I ne'er shall be removed,' the strong man saith. 
 Exulting in his strength, forgetting God and Deatt 
 Strong are the Whigs, still lord it over all. 
 As yet scarce heed the writing on the wall. 
 The day draws near when they shall know distress, 
 A King's disfavour and the Law's duress. 
 And wander sixty years i' the wilderness. 
 
 50 
 
he UPPER ^;;^//6^ LOWER WORLDS 
 
 rH E R E was a time when Kings were Kings indeed, 
 From all restraint, divine or human, freed; 
 The tyrant gave a nod, — away were led 
 Rivers and Vaughan and Grey, as good as dead. 
 A many-headed Lord is now supreme. 
 Some of whose heads with strange ideas teem. 
 And, like old Tyrant-Kings, this potentate 
 Can be capricious, cruel, obstinate. 
 He 's still to power strange. Perchance he'll grow 
 In wisdom and in grace: God grant it so! 
 
 Ours was a midway time; the rule of One 
 Was past, the rule of many not begun. 
 The Stuart's hopes were buried in a grave 
 At sad Culloden, with his clansmen brave. 
 The Right Divine there met its doom, 'twas slain 
 By Cumberland's fell guns, ne'er rose again. 
 The People still was dumb, great ills endured 
 In patience, scarcely dreamt these might be cured; 
 So in this age, the Few of fortune great. 
 Great Houses, great Connexions, ruled the State. 
 In cabinets the Dukes, exalted race. 
 Claimed almost an exclusive right of place. 
 The Peerage was a Caste ; far off the years 
 When Pitt the younger should recruit the Peers, 
 Ennobling graziers, bankers from the till 
 Of Lombard Street, and merchants from CornhilL 
 
 SI 
 
The \J??ER and the LOWER WORLDS 
 
 Nobles had left the City, westward bent, 
 First to Soho and then to Mayfair went. 
 Fashion was found on one side Temple Bar, 
 On t'other, Trade, from Fashion kept afar; 
 Trade, whence the younger son his fortune sought 
 In former days, was held a thing of nought. 
 Except when some old wasteful Lord would deign 
 A City dowry for his Heir to gain, 
 This young lord Squander took small pains to hid( 
 His well-bred scorn for his plebeian bride. 
 
 These English nobles were like Gods of old 
 Whose quality Lucretius did unfold. 
 Whom neither merits please, nor crimes provoke, 
 So far apart they live from human folk. 
 Thus Georgian lords of high Olympic mind 
 Moved in a circle guarded and confined, 
 Knew but each other; forming, in effect, 
 A club the most exclusive, most select, 
 Whose members met and gossipped all the day, 
 While all the night was given up to play. 
 For sixty years a scribe of great renown 
 The records of this splendid club set down. 
 The sayings of its members and their doings. 
 Their eccentricities, their debts, their wooings. 
 Their marriages, elopements and divorces. 
 Their bets, their Parliamentary discourses. 
 Their gamblings, duellings and drinking-bouts. 
 Their James's powders taken for their gouts. 
 Their visits to the Bath, their mortal ills. 
 And then their deaths, their funerals, their wills. 
 
 52 
 
MACAULAY^wWALPOLE 
 
 Who was this scribe unwearied? by the name 
 Of Horace Walpole Is he known to fame. 
 
 To virtuosos dear, Horace can boast 
 Of worshipping enthusiasts a host. 
 To these adorers he 's the type sublime, 
 True essence. Incarnation of his time. 
 They go to Strawberry Hill on pilgrimage 
 To summon up the spirit of his age, 
 To ponder o'er those long since scattered things, 
 His coins, enamels, bas-reliefs and rings. 
 His Chapel, printing-press and lilac-tree. 
 His reliquaries and his filagree. 
 The tub which drowned poor Sellma the cat. 
 King William's spurs and Wolsey's scarlet hat. 
 
 On t'other hand, a Whig historian great, 
 (Alas! how sometimes Whigs each other hate!) 
 Has dealt some fearful literary blows 
 At Horace and his home and curios. 
 And with superior swelling scorn refers 
 To Wolsey's scarlet hat and William's spurs. 
 One seems to sense a strong man with a club. 
 Belabouring the pretty china tub. 
 The statues, bronzes and the porcelain fine. 
 And Henry's stained-glass portrait In the Shrine. 
 The works of Horace, too, provoke the curse 
 Of this oflFended critic, — they're perverse, 
 They 're like their author, artificial, vain. 
 Yet have one merit, — that they entertain. 
 Yes, Horace entertains us, that's a test. 
 With many a pleasant anecdote and jest, 
 
 S3 
 
The IJFPER and the LOWER WORLDS 
 
 He's prince of letter- writers manifest. 
 
 He wore a mask, his manner was ironical. 
 
 Not positive, didactic, or thrasonical. 
 
 Talking and simultaneously feeding 
 
 Would have been much repugnant to his breeding. 
 
 All cannot all things well; some shine in speeches. 
 
 And some are veritable Books-in-Breeches ; 
 
 Then some are versatile, others enjoy 
 
 Keeping a single talent in employ; 
 
 Some love to stroll in Literature's bye-ways, 
 
 Some make triumphal progress on her highways. 
 
 There's room for all; why need need we find vende 
 
 Still raging in the spacious realm of Letters.^ 
 
 Now as to Walpole's Works — matter and style, 
 Macaulay is at issue with Carlyle; 
 *The sole Recording Angel of his age, 
 * Lucid and accurate, ' thus Chelsea's Sage. 
 But here we treat of Manners, leaving Letters 
 To the vast erudition of our betters. 
 
 In Manners Horace is a partial guide. 
 He breathed an atmosphere too rarefied; 
 Lived within urban or suburban bounds; 
 (Can you conceive him riding after hounds .'') 
 Loved rank and birth and wit; the vulgar herd 
 His true republican contempt incurred, — 
 Contempt for country-folk as rude Barbarians, 
 For tradesmen and mechanics as Vulgarians. 
 
 ^God made the Country, Man the Town,' we're i 
 In part can we subscribe this saying old; 
 
 54 
 
TOWN ^;zi COUNTRY 
 
 God made the Country, true; but God made Man 
 Who made the Town, — both come within His plan. 
 Only He made Man's disposition various. 
 One loves safe streets and market-place gregarious. 
 Another lives with Nature face to face. 
 Immersed in Agriculture or the Chase. 
 God made both, and a gulf between them set. 
 For Town is Town and Country Country yet; 
 Though now some bridges may the gulf bestride. 
 Yet the inhabitants on either side 
 In separation secular abide. 
 
 So when Spectator paid, for our delight, 
 A famous visit to a worthy Knight, 
 At first the rustics peeped at him with awe. 
 And in the Londoner a marvel saw; 
 But when they found him of reflective mood. 
 Noticed he neither hooted nor hallooed. 
 They grew suspicious of this man from Town, 
 As Romish Priest or Wizard set him down. 
 Spectator, by these rustic slights annoyed. 
 Returned where Solitude could be enjoyed. 
 
 Town-poets sang of rustic folk as dull 
 And rough, — or picturesque and fanciful. 
 When Zephalinda to the country hied, 
 What sort of company did Pope provide ? 
 A noisy boor, who, coming fresh from stable, 
 Courted the maid with knees beneath the table. 
 'Twas one of their poetical conventions 
 That Squires were louts, and thus paid their attentions. 
 Whereas these bards, for all their London pride, 
 
 55 
 
r/;^ U P P E R ^«i //^^ I. O W E R WORLDS 
 
 Were coarser than the Squires — and nastier beside. 
 
 But others pictured clowns as Nymphs and Swains, 
 Who blissful live, — except for amorous pains, 
 As thus: — tVhile other shepherds pipe all day ^ 
 Or in the shade with shepherdesses play ^ 
 Alexis drops his crook and leaves his flocks^ 
 And wanders melancholy through the rocks ^ 
 Sighing ^ Clorindaf She reproves his sighs y 
 He bows to her reproofs obeys — and dies. 
 And all the nymphs and shepherds of the plain 
 Mingle their kindly tears y and mourn the swain. 
 
 Crabbe knew our human nature was diviner. 
 Though much less exquisite, than Dresden china; 
 But Crabbe was country-bred, his village lore 
 Of grim experience the traces bore; 
 He knew that nymphs were frail, shepherds drank dee 
 And frequently were hanged for stealing sheep. 
 He knew that poets sang of happy swains 
 'Because the poets never knew their pains,' 
 Knew that, whatever earthly pains there be. 
 From amorous pains alone this folk was free. 
 
 The true aspect of bygone centuries 
 Is hidden from contemporaneous eyes. 
 For us a host of writers erudite 
 Have shed on Georgian ways abundant light. 
 Urban and rural; manners of the Court, 
 Of nobles, gentry, and the meaner sort, — 
 Manners of Tradesmen, drest in th' afternoon 
 In velvet coat and silver-buckled shoon, 
 
 56 
 
The SQUIRE and Ms LADY 
 
 Waiting at door of shop custom's approach. 
 
 Bustling to hand fair ladies from their coach ; 
 
 Manners of Actors, Authors, Templars, Priests, 
 
 Of guzzling Aldermen at City feasts ; 
 
 All has been duly sifted, weighed, unravelled, 
 
 How folk in coaches, chaises, waggons travelled. 
 
 Appeared at Pleasure-Garden, or the Play, 
 
 At Tavern, Coffee-house, Assembly gay. 
 
 As to lore geographical, almost 
 
 Each London street its chronicler can boast. 
 
 We've volumes on the Strand, tomes on May fair, 
 
 And learned treatises on Leicester Square; 
 
 Of these to make compendium concise 
 
 Scarce would one life, howe'er prolonged, suffice. 
 
 For me this task too complex and too great; 
 Enough that all these histories relate 
 A movement and development unceasing. 
 With comfort and politeness still increasing. 
 ' Tis true the Country lagged behind the Town, 
 The cockney more and more disdained the clown ; 
 Let the Squire's fondness for his lady show 
 That progress in the Country-side is slow. 
 For, if Pope's Squire, uxorious and coarse. 
 Esteemed her 'best of all things but his horse,' 
 The Squire of Tennyson, twelve decades later. 
 Only 'a little dearer ' learned to rate her. 
 (Horse-power, once the measure of our wives, 
 Now merely to grade motor-cars survives.) 
 The rural manners of the Georgian age 
 In glades Victorian sought hermitage, 
 
 57 
 
The UPPER and the LOWER WORLDS 
 
 And rough Squire Western would have lived at ease 
 With all those jolly sportsmen of Surtees, — 
 Jorrocks the Great, when shall his memory fail? 
 Ladythorne, Jovey Jessop, Scamperdale, 
 Full-blooded hard-bred Englishmen, who found 
 Their joy in Wine and Woman, Horse and Hound, 
 (In fact, such jolly sportsmen still abound.) 
 
 But both in Country and in Town we see 
 The Social system marshalled by Degree; 
 All Englishmen submitted with a grace 
 To Form, Degree, Priority and Place. 
 Dukes, like the glorious planet Sol enthroned 
 In eminence, no equal planets owned; 
 But minor planets, each in course approved. 
 Throughout the social empyrean moved. 
 Proud Somerset upon his spouse looked black, 
 When the poor lady tapped him on the back : 
 ^ My first wife, though a Percy, never dared 
 To take such liberties ! ' this outraged Duke declared. 
 In church Sir Roger might succumb to sleep. 
 But all his labourers must wakeful keep; 
 While others pray, he rises from his knees 
 To make his careful count of absentees; 
 Uprise his tenants at the sermon's end. 
 And, as he leaves the church, before him bend. 
 For all his oddness and benevolence 
 We recognize the Knight's omnipotence; 
 The rustics never thought of him as odd, 
 Rather as representative of God. 
 
 58 
 
BEAU NASH 
 
 Alas! God's representatives on earth 
 Not all possessed Sir Roger's simple worth. 
 Of pride, by saving humours unallayed, 
 A fearful type in Delville is displayed; 
 Degree by Delville was personified, 
 AndDedlock might have blushed at Delville's pride. 
 O Burney ! what a brainless heartless mass 
 Of stiflr conceit! O what a Formal Ass! 
 
 Thus Town and Country separately dwelt, 
 And both Degree's constraining fetters felt. 
 Who was it set the social system free. 
 Loosened the cramping bonds of proud Degree, 
 For Town and Country built a Commonwealth 
 Where all might seek their pleasure and their health.'^ 
 Who was this City's Lawgiver.'^ obtained 
 Its sovran ty.'^ for half a century reigned .f^ 
 A gambler, spendthrift, idler, reprobate. 
 Soldier of Fortune, was this Potentate. 
 But sometimes Providence strange instruments 
 Chooses, to execute its wise intents. 
 And Nash, while regulating from his throne 
 The ways of Bath, somewhat reformed his own. 
 O'er a shrewd brain his beaver white was pressed, 
 A kind heart beat beneath his opened vest. 
 And profits from his E.O. bank received 
 Helped to build hospitals, and want relieved. 
 Then Courage, first of virtues, Nash could boast. 
 He found Bath peopled by a savage host. 
 Their theatre was a shed, th'Assembly stank 
 
 59 
 
neU??ER and the LOWER WORLDS 
 
 Foul with tobacco smoked by men of rank; 
 
 As for their baths, a chronicler confesses 
 
 Both sexes bathed without their bathing dresses. 
 
 Nashtamedtheirrudeness, ordered their diversions 
 
 By rules as fixed as those of Medes and Persians. 
 
 Hog's-Norton squires, if booted, were reproved. 
 
 From Duchesses their aprons were removed. 
 
 He waved a wand, through whose compelling force, 
 
 All classes mixed in social intercourse. 
 
 Jews, Brokers, Traders eminent in cheese, 
 
 With Peers and Bishops, Statesmen and Grandees, 
 
 From LiiFey's fertile plains, from India's shore. 
 
 From Cambria's mountains into Bath they pour; 
 
 ThickskuUs and Widgeons from their halls remote. 
 
 Bob Jerome envious of a scarlet coat, — 
 
 O what a motley crowd the Circus fills. 
 
 Or swallows soup and forcemeat balls at Gills', 
 
 Or in Spring Gardens, o'er the water borne, 
 
 Breakfasts to sound of Clarion and Horn! 
 
 For all the Abbey bells impartial ring. 
 
 And all alike acknowledge Nash their King. 
 
 Wood built his mansions, Allen spent his cash, 
 
 B ut what would Bath have been without Beau Nash ? 
 
 In cave the Cyclops lived, nor God he feared, 
 Nor neighbour Cyclops by his visit cheered, 
 A lonely monster. We are different. 
 We English inly feel a social bent. 
 Recall to mind how, in the Middle Ages, 
 We went on Canterbury pilgrimages, 
 60 
 
T>^^ PILGRIMAGE/^ BATH 
 
 How Merchant, Scholar, Lawyer, Shipman, Friar, 
 
 Reeve, Prioress, Priest, Manciple and Squire 
 
 Beguiled the way with tales, comfort found none 
 
 In riding all the day dumb as a stone. 
 
 And, at Its close, rested their weary heads 
 
 In Dormitories of a Hundred Beds. 
 
 Men journeyed thus, in fellowship divine. 
 
 Three hundred years — till Henry smashed their shrine. 
 
 The Puritans from pilgrimage abstained. 
 
 And sourly social intercourse disdained; 
 
 Then Wealth, from feudal duty disallied, 
 
 Withdrew Itself to solitude and pride. 
 
 So Bath the slumbering social instinct woke. 
 
 Taught folk again to mix with other folk. 
 
 True, many a scoundrel came, the gambler greedy, 
 
 Th' adventurer, the fortune-hunter needy, 
 
 The Lovelace, a fell dragon, whose Intent 
 
 Was to devour the virgin innocent; 
 
 But then all Pleasure's armies must expect 
 
 Their Bardolphs, Nyms and Pistols to collect; 
 
 Even In pilgrim days the Tabard's guests 
 
 Not all could answer virtue's strictest tests; 
 
 With worldly motives, doubtless, some Imbued, 
 
 Some hypocrites the journey made, some lewd. 
 
 Nash died, and his successors came and went. 
 To bend Ulysses' bow vain efforts spent. 
 Wore beaver white, unbuttoned vest. In vain, 
 For Nash was first and last o'er Bath to reign. 
 Then, as the City's boundaries extend, 
 
 6i 
 
T/^^ UPPER ^«^//5^^ LOWER WORLDS 
 Her glory and prestige draw to an end; 
 There comes a day when manners strained or pert 
 Are ^Bathish' termed, and Londoners divert; 
 The bells for Pickwick ring, — Beau Nash's phantom 
 Looks with disdain at Angelo C. Bantam. 
 
 Let 's leave th' Enchanted Queen, now somewhat ag^ 
 And pay our court to charmer more engaging. 
 She basks in royal smiles; th'immediate Heir 
 Of England built her a Pavilion fair. 
 But Doctor Russell first the nymph admired, 
 Taught her sea-bathing, and with health inspired, 
 (Russell, whose mansion stood upon the site 
 Where hospitable Preston's guests alight). 
 Then Brighthelmstone no boundaries knew more 
 Than North Street, East Street, West Street and the sh 
 And Middle Street, (as might have been expected), 
 Running from north to south, the town bisected. 
 And all by lanes and rows interconnected. 
 Queer lanes to modern trippers little known. 
 Then add the Steyne, and that was Brighthelmstone. 
 And still upon the Steyne one might descry 
 The nets of fishermen spread out to dry. 
 
 Picture an autumn morn, before the time 
 When George the Prince on Brighton shone sublime 
 With desultory step down West Street roam. 
 West Street, of residents select the home. 
 And you might see two sportsmen mount — one's Th 
 A brewer eminent of Southwark ale; 
 Who with him rides on an old hunter grey .'^ 
 That horseman will a closer gaze repay. 
 62 
 
BRIGHTON CELEBRITIES 
 For he's a Lexicographer of note, 
 And Rasselas and Lives of Poets wrote; 
 They clatter o'er the cobbles, leave the town, 
 And soon are galloping across the Down, 
 For Johnson rode to hounds as hard and straight 
 As any wight the most illiterate. 
 Then later, when the day's been somewhat aired, 
 Ladies emerge, for promenade prepared; 
 That's Madam Thrale with clever Fanny Burney, 
 They've yesterday from Streatham made the journey 
 In coach and four, with two men in a chaise. 
 Two more on horseback, — dangerous are the ways. 
 They saunter on the front, and turn again 
 On the Parade to watch Militia train. 
 Or gossip glean from Widgett's on the Steyne. 
 
 But these are gentle ghosts; the day draws near 
 When George and all his comrades wild appear. 
 Jockey of Norfolk, Barrymore and Lade, 
 Orleans and ^old Q.' these scenes invade. 
 These feast and drink in Architecture's Wonder, 
 From Turkish Mosque is copied its Rotunda, 
 Part's Indian, part Egyptian, part Chinese, 
 Moorish or Gothic — anything you please. 
 Within this palace, prisoned as it were, 
 A Lady sits on an enchanted chair. 
 Restraining presence ! spotless is the fame 
 Of this magnanimous and noble Dame. 
 Even the rout of Comus understands 
 Her worth and virtue, honours her commands ; 
 Much she forgave, endured; true wife, not Queen, 
 
 63 
 
The UPPER and the LOWER WORLDS 
 Yet reigned at Brighton with a sway serene. 
 
 Now at its brilliant zenith is the Steyne, 
 Half London follows in the Prince's train; 
 North, East and West grows Brighton, year by year 
 And even stretches Seaward with a Pier. 
 To Brighton now resort the Beaux and Belles, 
 Forsaking Bristol, Bath and Tunbridge Wells. 
 To other pleasure-cities by the sea 
 Rush visitors of different degree, 
 To Ramsgate, Margate, for sea-bathing joys. 
 In * coaches, chaises, caravans and hoys. ' 
 At Weymouth, as the King to bathe descends. 
 Hid in the next machine a band attends. 
 And, as he dips, the rocks resound and ring 
 With loyal strain, ^ God save great George our King ! 
 From King to Cockney, all are now astir. 
 All rove, from Marchioness to milliner; 
 At inns the stream of custom never fails. 
 On all the roads a liveliness prevails ; 
 So fast the locomotion, one may eat 
 Breakfast in Bath, and dine in Jermyn Street. 
 
 Now can fair Zephalinda say goodbye 
 To Town, without a retrospective sigh ; 
 No more to croaking rooks and pious aunts 
 Fair Zephalinda goes, — she goes on jaunts. 
 Merely exchanges London's sounds and sights 
 For equal and competitive delights; 
 From these vacation-joys returns the maid. 
 And revels once again in ball and masquerade. 
 
 64 
 
T/^^JOYS^/VAUXHALL 
 
 Thronged are the Pleasure-Gardens. — O Vauxhall! 
 Thy glory passed away beyond recall. 
 Long have mean streets the very site obscured 
 Where Wilderness and Druid's Walk allured. 
 Of Londoners what multitudes untold. 
 From Pepys to Boz, within thy groves have strolled ! 
 In Tyers' reign thy fortune is at flood, 
 Here walk the jolly Dukes of Royal blood. 
 And here the Prentice comes, without rebuke. 
 To glut his eyes with gazing on a Duke. 
 Hither the City Tradesman fares, by water, 
 To give a promised treat to wife and daughter; 
 They stand before the Orchestra, Miss Kitty 
 Is ravished by each sentimental ditty; 
 Then, staring at the myriad lamps, they're lost 
 In silent contemplation of the cost. 
 They go to supper, order Frontiniac, 
 Slices of ham that third dimension lack, 
 A chicken and a tart ; Papa, poor soul. 
 Laments the cheaper pleasures of Sot's Hole. 
 
 But does not Tyers merit our applause 
 If he from Hole of Sots this Cit withdraws.^^ 
 If Nash could soften manners that offended. 
 Make boors polite, may Nash not be commended.'^ 
 Go ye, who health at cheerful Brighton gain, 
 To that forgotton corner of the Steyne, 
 Where George's statue stands; on feastful days 
 Hang the neglected bronze with grateful bays. 
 
 For Man is social, though a gifted few 
 Seek rural shades and restless crowds eschew, 
 
 f 65 
 
T/^^ UPPER ^/2^//^^ LOWER WORLDS 
 
 Let these their verses on Retirement write, 
 And epitaphs for favourite hares indite ; 
 Yet still, ('tis common sense), nine out often 
 Improve by mixing with their fellow-men. 
 
 Here might we say, ' Behold a happier age, i 
 
 ^ Humaner, more refined!' and close the page. 
 But every picture has its light and shade. 
 And Truth itself by contrast is displayed. 
 Pious Aeneas saw th'Elysian meads. 
 Where heroes still delight in glossy steeds, 
 And sing and revel with eternal zest 
 Beneath the radiant skies in regions blest; 
 But also sawTisiphone's domains 
 And heard the clanking iron and dragging chains, 
 The cruel scourgings and unending wail 
 Where Rhadamanthus' laws severe prevail; 
 Dread scenes, where impious men and fraudulent 
 Trembling await their doom and punishment. 
 
 Thus Brighton, Bath, Pall Mall were places sweet 
 But what were Bridewell, Newgate and the Fleet .^ 
 Places of Horror, where, by rule perverse. 
 Through meeting one another, men grew worse; 
 A dreadful realm, infected with the slime 
 Of degradation, wickedness and crime. 
 
 Most to be pitied those, whose sole offence 
 Was their unpardonable want of pence; 
 For criminals their time appointed stayed, 
 But debtors knew no mercy — till they paid; 
 Half-starved, before their time old and infirm, 
 66 
 
PITY POOR DEBTORS! 
 
 Hope left them, and they served a life-long term. 
 
 Some suffered worse things than privations dire, 
 
 For these incurred a brutal Gaoler's ire. 
 
 Bambridge, the Monster of the Fleet, these last 
 
 Into a foul and noisome dungeon cast, 
 
 A prison in a prison, dark and dank. 
 
 By which a filthy sewer flowed and stank. 
 
 *Pity poor Debtors!' hear the Boxman cry. 
 
 Pity them! yearly one in four they die. 
 
 In King's Bench and the Compter, where they rot, 
 
 In Beggar's Ward how desperate their lot! 
 
 Pity poor Debtors! miserable thralls 
 
 Who waste their lives within those tragic walls, 
 
 Where Hope is dead, and Innocence is slain. 
 
 And only Death, Disease, Dejection reign. 
 
 From Newgate criminals, for death at least, 
 Were soon by Gaol-Delivery released. 
 Sometimes, it chanced, his own infected breath, 
 Tainting the Court, avenged the felon's death. 
 And, spreading from the dock, the dungeon's stench 
 Struck down its victims — Jury, Bar and Bench. 
 There in his rags the trembling caitiff stands. 
 Grasping the bars with fever-wasted hands; 
 He hears the indictment read, 'Not Guilty' pleads, 
 Hears the recital of his sordid deeds. 
 And next the Verdict. ' What hast thou to say .f^' 
 He tries to speak, for mercy tries to pray. 
 Then falls the Sentence of the Judge in red, 
 ' Hanged by the neck till you be dead — dead — dead.' 
 And as his doom sounds, round his thumb a twine 
 Is tightly drawn, — a foretaste and a sign. 
 
 67 
 
T/^^ U P P E R ^«i /^^ L O W E R WORLDS 
 
 Pity Tom Idle in his Newgate cell! 
 The dawn breaks, and he hears his passing bell. 
 He lives again his crime; he sees again 
 That Blood Bowl Cellar in the Smithfield Lane; 
 The murdered corpse, the spoils spread on the flo( 
 Who knocks? The constables are at the door. 
 Led by his woman; thus was he betrayed 
 By strumpet false, — HelFs curse upon the jade! 
 
 Pity Tom Idle on his Tyburn ride! 
 In Gravesend Coach, with coffin by his side, 
 Down Holborn Hill, past Holborn Bars and Sti] 
 And through the frightful purlieus of St Giles; 
 A nosegay at his breast, dread in his heart. 
 The jeering mob follows behind the cart. 
 Pitiless eyes from doors and windows stare. 
 And crowds enjoy the fun of Tyburn Fair. 
 He hears the hawkers cry his dying speech. 
 Hears pious Todd, 'Repent! Repent!' beseech. 
 Now they're in Oxford Road, now he can see 
 The Hangman squatting on the Triple Tree. 
 'Repent! Repent!' Betwixt the cart and rope 
 Short is the space. May Tom for mercy hope.f^ 
 
 Inevitable end of erring Man! 
 For though the Will were free when he began. 
 He took the first false step, and slipped, alas! 
 Inextricably 'whelmed in a morass. 
 No hope for him who once set foot within 
 Those regions of polluting crime and sin. 
 The Dials or the Mint, where culprits vile. 
 Thieves, coiners, cheats, 'scaped Justice — for a \ 
 
 68 
 
KNIGHTS^/ 2^/6^ ROAD 
 
 Pity Maclaine! a Highwayman of fame. 
 To visit whom in cell great ladies came. 
 Said Johnson, 'Seldom Highwaymen attend 
 'Assemblies, or their way to Playhouse wend.' 
 But this Maclaine would Tunbridge Wells frequent, 
 Lived in St James's Street, to Button's went. 
 Tomorrow must he hang; High Toby's Chief 
 Shall mount the cart with any petty thief. 
 A short life and a merry.? short, 'tis clear; 
 But merry.'' scarcely; 'twas a life of fear. 
 Great Turpin skulked, after each exploit brave. 
 In Hackney Marsh, or hid in Epping cave, 
 Or to the 'Bear' in Drury Lane withdrew. 
 With trembling fellow-thieves, to plot anew. 
 Turpin, and Ferguson, and Abershaw 
 All paid their early forfeit to the Law; 
 And many a Captain, rash and ill-advised. 
 Through Paris Peace dismissed, demobilized. 
 Who put on mask of crape, his horse bestrode. 
 And with a desperate mind took to the Road. 
 And Oxford students, who, in wayward mood. 
 Eased Bursars of their rents in Wytham Wood, 
 Inexorable Justice, sad to tell. 
 From Gownsman's Gallows hanged in Holywell. 
 
 Do not the relicts of these Cavaliers 
 Deserve a meed of sympathetic tears. 
 Who, 'neath the Gallows, faithful to the last. 
 Pulled their lords' legs, until their souls had passed.? 
 Not long the Hempen Widow mourned her fate, 
 Somenaturaltearssheshed — and found another mate. 
 
 69 
 
T/;^ U P P E R ^;z^ />^^ L O VV E R WORLDS 
 
 For all, who tolls upon the roads collected. 
 The company of females much affected ; 
 And one, of prosperous enterprise, 'twas known, 
 Kept half-a-dozen Doxies for his own. 
 
 Pity poor Woman! for she suffered most, 
 Through crime and degradation doubly lost. 
 Easy the downward path ; but how retrace 
 The fatal footstep .'^ how return to grace.'' 
 Fresh to the Town, of danger unaware. 
 For her the wicked Pander sets her snare. 
 And, as the maid from country cart descends. 
 Proffers her help, and seems the best of friends. 
 Behind her, by the ^Buir Inn door appears 
 The lecher Chartres, — there he waits and leers. 
 Such practised madams great repute enjoyed; 
 All rakehells their procuresses employed. 
 Sometimes, in character of high-bred matrons 
 They went to country-houses with their patrons 
 Squire Thornhill thus the Primroses deceived, 
 Who Lady Blarney's anecdotes believed. 
 So Lovelace, for Clarissa's ruin chose 
 A wretch as Colonel's widow taught to pose; 
 Clarissa much misliked her, scarce knew why. 
 Save that she had an 'odd and winking eye.' 
 Need we to less exalted dames refer, 
 Describe the General Practitioner.'^ 
 If lore of Bow Street's Abbesses you'd learn, 
 To Hickey's sinful Recollections turn. 
 As for the Nuns, that in those Abbeys gay 
 Their habitation found, how brief their stay! 
 
 70 
 
HAVE MORALS IMPROVED? 
 
 How soon cast out upon the streets to prey! 
 Then doomed to scenes of want, disease and pain^ 
 Bridewell, the Lock, the purlieus of the Lane. 
 The maid we saw alighting at the 'Bull' 
 Thus ended ; O disaster pitiful ! 
 
 Yes, 'twas a wicked Age. Worse than the next.^^ 
 Worse than our own ? Ah ! that 's a question vext. 
 Its vice was ostentatiously displayed; 
 Moreover, authors called a spade a spade, 
 Wrote not of blameless Enids and Geraints, 
 (Creatures of human semblance — really saints), 
 Poems and tales, in which the tender mind 
 Of good Young Person nothing bad could find; 
 They wrote of men and women, not of dolls. 
 Of Lady Boobys and of Blear-eyed Molls. 
 We middle-aged, who prudishly were bred. 
 By this outspokenness may be misled. 
 And boast we're better than our Sires, — maybe. 
 Less coarse .f^ well, that 's an arguable plea. 
 
 No doubt we're also kinder, more humane. 
 Feel more for want and wretchedness and pain. 
 Our Churches, wide awake, with effort brave 
 Their armies organize to help and save. 
 For then the taint of brothel, slum and jail 
 Set men, as heathen, quite beyond the pale. 
 
 Cecilia, walking out from Portman Square, 
 Bound Cityward, taking the morning air. 
 Found Oxford Road filled with a seething mass 
 
 71 
 
n^ U P P E R ^;7^ />^^ L O W E R WORLDS 
 Crowding to see some malefactors pass. 
 Retreating from the Mob, the fearful Maid 
 A side-street sought, such horrors to evade. 
 What thought Cecilia, when her dainty gown 
 Was brushed by all this refuse of the town .'^ 
 Did she, perchance, the Social Problem weigh.'' 
 Ponder the Nation's state with deep dismay .'^ 
 Did she, when hustled off the Oxford Road, 
 Reflect upon the Law's Draconian code.^^ 
 Whatever thoughts passed through Cecilia's head, 
 We only know she saw the Mob, — and fled. 
 
 For all men feared the Mob,that Beast unknown. 
 Now to proportions formidable grown. 
 ^Church and Sacheverell!' was once its cry. 
 Then 'No Excise!' then 'Wilkes and Liberty!' 
 Next, by religious bigotry inspired. 
 It yelled 'No Popery!' the chapels fired; 
 Prisons were burnt, felons let loose to rob, 
 London seemed at the mercy of the Mob. 
 Then Zeal went drunk with gin, and took to plunder. 
 Poor Walpole thought the State was lost, — no worn 
 And from his Garrison in Berkeley Square 
 To Countesses wrote letters of despair. 
 
 His fears were baseless: on the Mob was poured 
 A hail of bullets. Order was restored. 
 Walpole returned to Twit 'nam to bewail 
 A lesser stroke, — he found his hay-crop fail. 
 How fared the Mob, that Monster terrible .'^ 
 Hundreds were slain, and hundreds wounded fell, 
 A score were hanged, amongst whom paid the debt 
 
 72 
 
MANSION AND SLUM 
 
 Himself the Hangman, — quis custodiet? 
 
 The rest, as rats in sewers disappear. 
 
 Crept back to their old fastnesses of fear, 
 
 The Minories, Mint, Dials, Turnmill Street 
 
 And many a den abutting on the Fleet; 
 
 And there, from Justice safe, they drank and swore, 
 
 Thieved, quarrelled, festered, rotted, as before. 
 
 So is this age, for all its proud increase, 
 Its freedom, comfort, recreation, ease, 
 Like a fine mansion, fronting on a square. 
 Behind it slums and hovels taint the air. 
 The mansion's owner is of kind intent, 
 Fond of good living, but benevolent; 
 And, when the poor folk call, he '11 freely give, 
 At other times recks little how they live. 
 Happy for him if no endemic air 
 From those poor huts shall reach his mansion fair, 
 Steal through his windows with polluting breath 
 And strike his household and himself with death! 
 
 73 
 
w 
 
 T:he RULE 0/ KING GEORGE //6^ THIRD 
 
 HIGS5 in their heyday, numbered troops of fr 
 Of whom some followed mercenary ends; 
 Jobs, offices, reversions, sinecures 
 For these had irresistible allures; 
 Others, again, of a less sordid bent. 
 On garters, ribbons, peerages intent. 
 For all such honours looked to Government. 
 Some, of a more disinterested sort, 
 From principle to Whigs gave their support; 
 Some Tories even, showing signs of grace. 
 In Whig Administrations found a place. 
 Imagine not that lowly folk, and poor. 
 For Whigs respect and veneration bore; 
 Devoid of votes, and powerless, were these, 
 And Whigs upheld the motto '-Do utdes' 
 So Whigs, although by nature not unkind. 
 To sights of pain and want were somewhat blind, 
 And somewhat deaf to all those woful cries 
 Which from the poor of crowded cities rise. 
 Yet almost all the great things of the earth 
 Were with the Whigs, — Lords, Church, Wealth, 
 
 Land and Birth; 
 For nearly fifty years supreme they'd reigned. 
 Prescriptive rights in Government obtained. 
 And, waxing fat, lorded it over all. 
 Filled with the pride that goes before a fall. 
 
 74 
 
THE WHIG GOLIATH 
 
 So was that Philistine a mighty man. 
 Towering in height six cubits and a span. 
 In brassy greaves arrayed and coat of mail. 
 Who doubted that Goliath would prevail? 
 'Gainst whom the stripling David only took 
 His staff, and five smooth pebbles from the brook; 
 Yet by one well-slung stone Goliath fell, 
 And David after ruled in Israel. 
 
 Our Whig Goliath was not overthrown 
 With such despatch, nor by a single stone. 
 Long raged the battle, and our stripling King 
 Preferred the dagger-stroke to stone and sling. 
 With sudden artful feints he made th'attack, 
 Crept round the Giant, stabbed him in the back; 
 Thus great Goliath fell, and all the host 
 Of proud Philistia knew the day was lost. 
 
 Fiercer than wrath of beauty spurned, the hate 
 Of jealous Kings, and more inveterate. 
 Jealous of Power, Rule, Authority, 
 To be absolute, strain at Supremacy, 
 Of Kings this is the last infirmity. 
 But when a Prince, by nature ill-endowed 
 With disposition obstinate and proud. 
 In secret and illiberally bred. 
 His narrow mind with fatal theories fed. 
 Arrives at Man's estate, ascends the Throne, 
 Nothing can mend his case, the mischief's done; 
 The fountain's poisoned and its waters flow 
 Contaminating all the land below. 
 
 75 
 
r^^RULE^/KING GEORGEz/^.THIRD 
 
 ' Be King!' his mother cried. What kind of King? 
 What meant Augusta's stern admonishing? 
 A Czar of Muscovy? an Emperor? 
 Or, like the King of France, a Grand Seigneur? 
 Or meant she such a King as armies led 
 Silesia to steal? a Prussian Fred? 
 This lady from Saxe-Gotha meant, belike, 
 ' Be as a great Elector of the Reich !' 
 A German Prince, who should, in princely pride, 
 In some pretentious Wilhelmslust reside. 
 With all due ceremonies and amenities. 
 With Chamberlains to wait upon Serenities ; 
 His huntsmen ride in gorgeous uniform. 
 With stags and boars and hares his forests swarm, 
 He dooms to death the peasant who shall dare 
 To lay his hungry hand upon a hare. 
 His serfs live squalid lives, sweat to support 
 By hard-wrung taxes his expensive Court, 
 And these as soldiers he will sell wholesale 
 To fight for other Kings — if taxes fail. 
 
 Was this the r61e for George Augusta planned, 
 King of an ancient freedom-loving land. 
 To be absolute, and liberty delete. 
 And Englishmen as Hanoverians treat? 
 Who knows a mother's heart? who 's to divine 
 What fortune for her son she may design? 
 Or who can gauge an alien ignorance 
 Of England, and of England's governance? 
 Thought she her untried George that part could play 
 Which Stuart James did fatally essay, 
 
 76 
 
BUTE THE FAVOURITE 
 
 Thereby in exile dying? did she dream. 
 
 If not of Right Divine, of Right Supreme? 
 
 For Leicester House breathed an unwholesome air. 
 
 Conclaves mysterious assembled there; 
 
 There were discussed strange theories of State, 
 
 According ill with Sixteen-Eighty-Eight. 
 
 There was installed a marvel of the age, 
 
 A Favourite, portentous Personage. 
 
 A Favourite! we've read of such an one 
 In Second Edward's darling Gaveston, 
 Who bloomed awhile, but afterwards fared ill. 
 Was taken captive, slain on Blacklow Hill. 
 Then Mortimer in Isabella's eyes 
 Found favour great, the realm to scandalize. 
 Was splendid at the young King's Coronation, 
 Held secret sway in his Administration. 
 To Mortimer proud nobles bent the knee, — 
 But Mortimer was hanged from Tyburn Tree. 
 Did Scottish Bute read English history 
 Remember Isabella's anguished cry? 
 'O my fair son! spare gentle Mortimer! ' 
 Did Favourite Bute the parallel infer? 
 In England's chronicle, 'tis easy read. 
 The Favourite's pathway to the scaffold led. 
 
 Strange Governors indeed for such a Ward, 
 A German woman and a Scottish Lord ! 
 Not long in Scotland was Rebellion dead. 
 Still Autocrats in Germany were bred. 
 And, for another cause. Whig passers-by 
 At Leicester House looked with a doubtful eye, — 
 
 77 
 
The RULE of KING G E O R G E //6^ T H I R D 
 The Prince, 'twas rumoured, studied from a book 
 Writ by the pen of wicked Bolingbroke, 
 ^The Patriot King,' — a Monarch who should turn 
 From Faction base, his People's will to learn. 
 Much less through Faction rule, nor for his friend 
 A Faction-leader choose, on him depend; 
 The People's voice in such a Monarch's ear 
 From Faction's cries should sound distinct and clear ; 
 The Patriot King, by this unfailing test. 
 Would recognize his People's interest. 
 Work for their common good, and exercise 
 His just Prerogative in Kingly wise. 
 
 Can one imagine a more blameless thing, 
 More unexceptionable, than this King? 
 Nay more unselfish? or of nobler bent? 
 The proposition is self-evident. 
 For we 've seen Patriot Monarchs on the Throne, 
 Victoria, Edward, George as such have known, 
 Who 've vindicated Bolingbroke, and proved 
 That Kings can live from Faction far removed. 
 But Whigs then hated aught that impress took 
 From their detested bogey Bolingbroke, 
 And in his Patriot King thought they detected 
 A Tyrant King, to Freedom ill-affected. 
 
 Wholesome and sound this theory, no doubt, 
 Only 'twas difficult to carry out. 
 For where in all the land was George to find 
 The true expression of his People's mind? 
 In Parliament, where, in a free debate 
 The People's Representatives orate? 
 
 78 
 
ROTTEN BOROUGHS 
 
 Alas! King George's Senators were sent 
 
 By strange Constituents to Parliament, 
 
 Close Corporations, that, by custom old. 
 
 From Burgesses their votes claimed to withhold, 
 
 Boroughs quite innocent of residents, 
 
 Whose pigstyes were their only tenements, 
 
 Boroughs that were plough-fields, Boroughs subsiding 
 
 And towards the German Ocean gently gliding. 
 
 Bold Boroughs that hypocrisy despised 
 
 And for the highest bidder advertised. 
 
 Or wherein Peers their lackeys would promote 
 
 As temporary Freeholders to vote, — 
 
 These were the channels anciently ordained. 
 
 Through whichOpinion'smuddystream was drained. 
 
 But even had Opinion from its source 
 To London flowed in a pure watercourse. 
 And Englishmen enjoyed occasions fair 
 Their hopes and aspirations to declare. 
 Yet think not George would have constrainedhis will 
 Those hopes and aspirations to fulfil. 
 To smash the Factions, — here King George indeed 
 With Bolingbroke's philosophy agreed. 
 And thus reduce to ill-cohering atoms 
 Richmonds and Bedfords, Rockinghams and Chath^j^g 
 To push Newcastle from his high estate. 
 And princely Devonshire humiliate, — 
 In these congenial tasks he showed finesse 
 Courage and perseverance, won success. 
 Smote the Whig phalanx with insidious stroke. 
 Humbled his nobles' pride, Connections broke, 
 
 79 
 
r/^f RULE^/KING GEORGE />^^ THIRD 
 But not to ope his Presence-chamber's door 
 To those who had no entry there before. 
 Was Beckford welcome, when to Court he went 
 To remonstrate and grievances present 
 With London's citizens, and undismayed 
 To George's curt address bold answer made? 
 While Courtiers stared in fearful consternation, 
 The King was overcome with agitation 
 By Beckford's brave and improvised oration. 
 King George, when by such outrages upset, 
 For days resentfully would sulk and fret, 
 And nought would serve his angry mood to quiet 
 But strict adherence to potato diet. 
 
 Had George desired to know his People's mind. 
 Resolved its true interpreter to find. 
 One Man there was, one Spokesman fit to tell, 
 But artful Bute intrigued, and Chatham fell, 
 Chatham, who stood for England, long had voiced 
 His fellow-countrymen, — and George rejoiced. 
 Senile Newcastle, slighted and disdained. 
 Soon followed Chatham, and the Favourite reignec 
 
 Now could King George to make his Peace proce 
 A Peace from Honour's stricter mandates freed. 
 But first must Parliament's consent be gained, 
 And how should that great object be attained.'^ 
 To a shrewd man of Politics he turned. 
 An able man and bold, who might have earned 
 A Statesman's name, — but Fox his eyes kept down. 
 Clung to the Rake, and would not see the Crown, 
 
 80 
 
PROSCRIPTION ^//Z^^ WHIGS 
 
 And truly he had raked from England's store 
 
 Of golden dust an enviable store, 
 
 With Rake whose use was formerly no scandal, 
 
 But one that Pitt and Pelham scorned to handle. 
 
 ^ Give me not riches ! ' Fox was well aware 
 
 That scarce one in ten thousand prayed this prayer, 
 
 Knew that by tickling palms more might be done 
 
 Than tickling ears, more doubtful votes he won, 
 
 Opened Corruption's shop, his wares displayed, 
 
 (Bank-notes to wit), and did a roaring trade. 
 
 And from his Master wanted not support; 
 
 George did his part, to offices at Court 
 
 Appointed waverers, created hordes 
 
 Of Green Cloth Clerks, Bedchamber Grooms and Lords : 
 
 Thus Gold combined with Influence, removed 
 
 All obstacles; thus was the Peace approved. 
 
 The fight was o'er, the King had won the day. 
 Now was the order given, 'Pursue and slay; 
 Now root and branch th' accursed Whigs destroy. 
 To others give their places to enjoy; 
 Bruise them with rods, let them be runagate, 
 Theirchildrenbegtheirbread,their houses desolate!' 
 For Whigs no quarter ! such the sentence dire 
 Of Fox, fond husband and indulgent sire ; 
 Fox, of a cruel spirit now the slave. 
 Pressed his old colleagues hard, no quarter gave. 
 Fox, once for kindness and good-nature famed, 
 Fox, now by Cumberland for harshness blamed! 
 
 Now must the wretched Whigs their reckoning pay ; 
 Wrote Walpole, ' 'Tis their Execution Day.' 
 
The RULE of KING GE O RGE //^f T HIRD 
 Great Lords, Newcastle, Grafton, Rockingham, 
 Victims illustrious, the tumbrils cram; 
 But with them ride obscurer sufferers. 
 Poor underlings, excisemen, messengers. 
 Clerks, pensioners, dependents; high and low. 
 Master and man to execution go. 
 To lose their heads? Nay, no such tragedy. 
 ^ Off with his head!' is altered to the cry 
 ^ Off with his place, his Lord-Lieutenancy, 
 ^His pension, sinecure, or salary!' 
 No scaffolds were set up, no blood was shed, 
 None needed now to tremble for his head. 
 But mean revenge, and persecuting hate 
 Struck at the lowly servants of the great. 
 
 ^ A bad man to rule bad men must be sought,' 
 But this by Bolingbroke was never taught. 
 This was the Pupil's, not the Master's, thought. 
 Thus was the King's hypothesis disclosed 
 That English folk were evilly disposed, 
 And must by wicked hirelings be controlled 
 Such as coerce by threats, or tempt with gold; 
 And thus he looked on Fox as hireling mean. 
 To be used, dismissed, and vanish from the scene. 
 
 But leaders, be they good or wicked, need 
 A following, — else how are they to lead.f^ 
 And so sagacious George made efforts great 
 Setting himself his Party to create. 
 His Party? — well, that name, though much decriec 
 Some kind of Principle still signified. 
 Some band not wholly set on selfish ends, 
 
 82 
 
THE KING'S FRIENDS 
 
 Scarce was it suited to King George's Friends. 
 King's Friends! again we note an implication 
 Aspersing the remainder of the Nation, — 
 ' Who votes against the King and Court, bind fast 
 That rebel, into outer darkness cast! ' 
 
 Imagine not this title of King's Friends 
 To aught but sense political pretends. 
 For George had private friends, who served him well, 
 Dull for the most part, but respectable. 
 To these his children's ailments he 'd relate. 
 His views on Shakespeare's genius frankly state, 
 ^ Wrote he not wretched stuff? What ? What ?' but owned, 
 ' One must not say so, what ? one would be stoned.' 
 These knew his royal thoughts, heard him declare 
 How great a monster was the vile Voltaire, 
 With George in chapel froze it out together. 
 Rode after him to hounds in every weather, 
 Were jerked o'er gates, or into ditches rolled, 
 And by his barley-water jug consoled. 
 Then, drinking tea with Burney the demure, 
 Told all the woes Equerries must endure. 
 
 Those other Friends, — his Party ! Ne 'er has been 
 A more extraordinary Party seen; 
 Nor Whig, nor Tory; one might almost say 
 Their principles derived from Quarter-Day. 
 They took their wage, still ready to vote down 
 At Palace hint the Servants of the Crown, 
 Secure in place, unless their names were missed 
 From some well-scrutinized Division-List. 
 Let them vote straight, and when the King desired, 
 
 83 
 
The RULE^/^KING GE O RGE /y^^ T H I RD 
 And that was all the service he required. 
 From duty freed, the virtuous King's Friend 
 His hours of leisure, as he willed, might spend, 
 Even at Medmenham his mind unbend. 
 Of Hell-Fire Club be made initiate. 
 To Satan pray, black Masses celebrate. 
 Thus was he licensed; but should he neglect 
 His duty, Conway's fate he might expect. 
 
 The thrifty King, this Cohort to maintain. 
 Kept simple state, lived frugally and plain, 
 And, when their pay made inroads on his purse. 
 Applied to Parliament to reimburse; 
 Moreover, at a seasonable hour. 
 Admitted Bedford to a share of power. 
 Leader of Sandwich, Weymouth, Rigby, Gower; 
 Three-bottle men, a dissipated crowd. 
 Into th'Administration were allowed. 
 Thus George recruited hisPretorian guard; 
 Courage and perseverance gained reward ; 
 With North made Minister the thing was done. 
 After ten years of struggle George had won. 
 
 A second Restoration in a sense. 
 But Restoration with a difference; 
 No joyous entry at the Nation's call. 
 No royal march from Dover to Whitehall; 
 Nor needed George, as 'twere, to show his teeth^ 
 And post a Monck with legions at Blackheath. 
 His men-at-arms, few, but well-fed and rationed. 
 At Westminster strategically stationed, 
 
 84 
 
THE KING'S METHODS 
 
 For weapons only had their votes, but these 
 They handled with a truly veteran ease. 
 Well-disciplined, and steady on parade. 
 They the commands of Captain North obeyed. 
 North, faithful servant, but of happier fate. 
 If, as he served his King, he'd served the State. 
 
 Yet none the less George ruled — not only reigned, 
 Through North control of Parliament obtained. 
 Broke not the Constitution, yet prevailed; — 
 Herein itself the Constitution failed. 
 Whose framers, howsoe'er by wisdom guided, 
 Never for such a case as this provided, — 
 A King who should, just for his own behoof. 
 Of Walpole's and of Fox's arts make proof, 
 A King, who gloried in a Briton's name. 
 And as a Briton bribed, nor thought it shame, 
 Blind to the fact that Britons now began 
 These methods with suspicious eyes to scan. 
 
 George toiled and moiled, all for the benefit 
 Of England, as he doubtless fancied it; 
 His ends were honest, but strange means he chose, 
 ' Bring me the the List of last night's Ayes and Noes, 
 Make out two Schedules, first those who abstained, 
 Then those who were by Opposition gained; 
 All such defaulters shall observe with gloom 
 My conduct at to-morrow's Drawing-Room.' 
 Then as Electioneerer George excelled. 
 Developed talents rarely paralleled. 
 And every trader in the Royal Borough 
 Admitted that his canvassing was thorough; 
 
 85 
 
T>^. RULE ^/KING GEORGE //^^ THIRD 
 
 In short by method, diligence and art, 
 
 George grew in strength, and played his Kingly part, 
 
 This King was unforgiving, obstinate. 
 Pursued his enemies with vengeful hate. 
 And one of doubtful record raised thereby 
 By senseless persecution to the sky, 
 Wilkes, Freedom's Martyr, London's Chamberlain, 
 (That Martyrs sometimes win rewards 'tis plain). 
 Scandal was rife, a vitriolic pen 
 Wrote libels scurrilous on public men. 
 Of Granby's jobs, of Grafton's dirty work 
 In cheating justice of the rogue McQuirk, 
 How Bedford for his son grieved not at all. 
 But ^venerable Gertrude' gave a ball. 
 How Guards the Sheriff's officers molested 
 When General Gansell was for debt arrested. 
 And Lowther, bold bad Baronet, essayed 
 The worthy Portland's forest to invade. 
 
 Such tales, or true, or false, or much embellished 
 By party hate, were tasted, swallowed, relished; 
 But soon were English hearts to be oppressed 
 By tidings not so pleasant to digest; 
 These came from scenes of horrid Fratricide, 
 Where Britons'gainsttheir kinsmen foughtand died 
 Because of George's stubbornness and pride. 
 Yorktown and Saratoga! never yet 
 Had darker clouds our England overset. 
 We saw the ships of France and Spain parade 
 For fifteen weeks i'the Channel unafraid; 
 From Maker Church was Danger's signal flown, 
 
 86 
 
CHASTENED WHIGS 
 
 The Bloody Flag, for centuries unknown ; 
 And men recalled, in bitterness and woe, 
 Pitt's victories of twenty years ago. 
 
 Such ills did George inflict upon his land, 
 A King with Parliament at his command; 
 And, as we muse thereon, the thought intrudes 
 Why nations must endure such interludes. 
 We ask ^Cui Bono? ' Why does Time bring forth 
 Now Pitt magnificent, now pliant North? 
 Or why should Providence a King permit 
 To wreck his Country by his want of wit? 
 
 On this the Whig historians moralize. 
 Philosophize, and write their Essays wise; 
 You'd think this season was ordained to be 
 For Whigs a Locus Pcenitenti^^ 
 That God looked down, saw Whigs degenerate, 
 Plagued us to bring them to a better state. 
 To cleanse them of their jealousies and strife, 
 Lure Chatham from his isolated life. 
 That so the Whigs on stepping-stones might rise 
 Of their dead selves to higher enterprise. 
 
 It may be; but thereafter soon we find 
 Whigs in a Coalition strange combined — 
 Charles Fox and North ; later, by Fox again 
 As friend of Revolution, rent in twain. 
 With greater issues History may be fraught 
 Than those for which our Whigs and Tories fought. 
 The Greeks and Troj ans strove with might and main^ 
 Their battle sways, now is Patroclus slain, 
 
 87 
 
TheRULEofKING GE O RGE //?^^ T H I RD 
 Now Hector, now Achilles rages o'er the plain; 
 But brave men lived, we know, before the time 
 Of Agamemnon, and in every clime. 
 Let 's take a wider view, not in amaze 
 On Greece and Troy still concentrate our gaze. 
 Glance o'er the Channel, where the strife begins 
 Of 'Haves'and'Have-nots,'not of 'Outs' and 'Ins,' 
 Of Breeched and Breechless ranged in contrast vile. 
 In England all were breeched in matchless style; 
 Tories and Whigs, in breeches of Nankin, 
 Cut-velvet, satin, silk, alike were seen ; 
 Splendidly-breeched, coated in gold brocade. 
 These at each other in the House inveighed. 
 
 And, year by year, these combatants renowned 
 Their fights renew, with laurels fresh are crowned. 
 As yet our 'Have-Nots' mere spectators stand, 
 And curiously watch these Tourneys grand, 
 (Save, on occasion, when some peevish Knight 
 Cries 'Privilege,' and has them driven from sight). 
 The Lists are set, the Champions bestride 
 Their coursers bold, — say six on either side, 
 Armed at all points into the Ring they ride. 
 'Sound Trumpets and set forward!' straightaway 
 Theyjoin in indiscriminate mellay, 
 Advance, retreat, charge, separate, commingle, 
 Some fight in concert, some in combat single. 
 Some are unhorsed, — but soon their seats regain; 
 So shrewd the strokes, 'tis wonder none is slain; 
 And strange confusions on the strife attend, 
 
PARTY POLITICS 
 
 In fresh formations as they shift and blend. 
 Foe joins himself with foe, friend tilts at friend. 
 
 These Senatorial joustings still with awe 
 We watch, still puzzled by the Tourney Law, 
 But we may pick our Champions, may devise 
 The mottoes on their shields, their battle-cries. 
 For lowly lookers-on 'twas different then. 
 They counted nothing, might not choose their men, 
 Looked on in much bewilderment and doubt. 
 And often marvelled what 'twas all about. 
 
 And so, before and since, simple and wise 
 On Party Politics have made surmise. 
 First, how did they begin .^^ and, second, why 
 We still commit this waste of energy .f^ 
 We might united stand, brother with brother, 
 Instead we're always fighting one another, — 
 Roundheads and Cavaliers, Country and Court, 
 Tories and Whigs, then, (of a later sort). 
 When 'every boy and girl was born alive 
 A little Liberal or Conservative.' 
 True sang the Sentry, for we 're born that way. 
 And that 's the plainsong o't, (as Nym would say) ; 
 Nature at least the primal impulse lends. 
 Though fate in after years, or voice of friends. 
 Or interest deflect to other ends. 
 Some love the Past, its lessons venerate; 
 Some spurn them, on the Future concentrate; 
 Some love Authority, submit unduly; 
 Some clamour for their rights, behave unruly; 
 As some are atrabiliously inclined, 
 
 89 
 
T>&^ RULE ^/KING GEORGE /A^ THIRD 
 And some of th' opposite, or sanguine, kind, — 
 Perchance our very physical conditions 
 Provoke us to be Party Politicians. 
 
 In our free England this divergent ply 
 Has ample room, and scope, and liberty. 
 We Ve Action followed by its Counter-action, 
 (Only the shallow-minded call it Faction), 
 'Tis as an ordered progress to a goal, 
 Steam to propel, and brakes to give control; 
 Systole and Diastole; now something gained, 
 Now something lost, — but Balance is maintained. 
 For, sure, the best-made clock must cease to go 
 Unless the pendulum swings to and fro. 
 
 King George, remote from such an argument, 
 Deeming all Party vile and pestilent. 
 Gave orders to a Party from the Throne, 
 A thing of shreds and patches — but his own. 
 For twelve long years he toiled and persevered. 
 For twelve long years this Party strange cohered ; 
 But not for England's good, she paid the cost — 
 A heavy reckoning in Empire lost. 
 
 90 
 
FHE CHURCH OF ENGLAND 
 
 ' TTTH E N our Forefathers did their hearts incline 
 V \ / To muse on things Eternal and Divine, 
 V V When for a breathing-space they drew apart 
 From Court and Forum, Senate-House and Mart, 
 What weretheirthoughtsof God Phowdid they sound 
 His mysteries and purposes profound? 
 
 For all men think of God; all apprehend 
 A God as Spirit, Maker, Judge or Friend; 
 Even an Atheist of foolish wits 
 The concept of Almighty God admits; 
 So, though this age a godless name has earned. 
 Doubt notmen's hearts were sometimes Godward turned 
 The dawdling Beau, the Man of Parliament, 
 The busy Merchant on his bargain bent. 
 The Grub-Street Poet in his garret writing. 
 The Soldier and the Sailor in their fighting. 
 Not one of these could thoughts of God resist, 
 Albeit idle thoughts and soon dismissed; 
 And, sure, the Duellist, who boldly stood 
 Facing his foe upon the Field of Blood, 
 And the poor Felon, as the Tree he neared. 
 Had thoughts of God, believed in him, and feared. 
 
 That God existed all believed ; but then 
 How did He manifest himself to men? 
 How were His truths revealed, His plans displayed? 
 
 91 
 
T/^;^ CHURCH ^/ENGLAND 
 
 How was the light of Heaven to Earth conveyed? 
 
 Could finite Reason measure with a rod 
 
 And sum th' eternal Providence of God? 
 
 (If Reason, Man from beast distinguishing, 
 
 Be not itself a more than finite thing) ; 
 
 And then there was the Book, — but who was fit 
 
 To stand forth as Interpreter of it? 
 
 Some said, 'Each Man is given an Inner Light, 
 
 'Each can interpret for himself aright, 
 
 'The Book's for all; therein may Truth be sought;' 
 
 Others that Truth was therein proved, not taught. 
 
 That Truth was by Tradition onward passed. 
 
 Each age received the Treasure from the last. 
 
 Trace backward, you shall find the spoken Word 
 
 Of Christ by His Disciples first was heard, 
 
 Who carried it abroad; the Church thus grew, 
 
 Tradition's sole repository true. 
 
 Whose Councils met, when'er the need befell, 
 
 Truth to confirm, and Heresy to quell. 
 
 Thus was the issue joined; if Man refuse 
 To be constrained, if he free judgment use. 
 The sinful waywardness of Man is prone 
 To fly at rash conclusions all his own, 
 By ignorance and error led astray. 
 Each must the leader be, none will obey, 
 Seceding from secession, puff^ed with pride, — 
 So Schisms into Schisms sub-divide. 
 
 Suppose we then to Church our wills submit, 
 And all our private speculations quit. 
 To Priest and Bishop leave th' arbitrament, 
 92 
 
HER CATHOLICITY 
 
 Receive their dogmas with a full assent. 
 
 Do not we thereby run to hasards great 
 
 Leaning on props that may not bear our weight? 
 
 Suppose the Priest, on whom the Bishop's hands 
 
 Were laid, natheless his text misunderstands? 
 
 May not a Bishop err? must we believe 
 
 Those Fathers in their Councils primitive 
 
 Were ^//infallible? If otherwise. 
 
 May not the Creeds some heresies comprise? 
 
 Where then was Truth? if Reason was perplext, 
 
 If Christians wrangled over Scripture's text. 
 
 If links were weak in old Tradition's chain, 
 
 How should we seek for Truth ? how Truth attain ? 
 
 Where stood the Church of England ? Sooth to say. 
 She stood already in the Middle Way, 
 Allowed the Councils till a certain date, 
 But held those subsequent were reprobate; 
 So some Traditions she upheld, the rest 
 She made obnoxious to a Scripture test; 
 Thus some Traditions she by Scripture tried. 
 Some Scripture by Tradition certified. 
 This was her Middle Way; but who denies 
 There may be virtue in a compromise? 
 Not in the Roman sense Catholical, 
 But with true motherhood embracing all. 
 With instinct sure, two centuries ago. 
 She kept within her fold High, Broad and Low. 
 Does it nought signify, that still we find 
 Those elements still differing, still combined? 
 
 93 
 
n^ CHURCH ^/ENGLAND 
 
 That, after centuries of loss and gain, 
 
 Her tripartite divisions still remain? 
 
 This is her Essence ; those who would destroy 
 
 An Essence, efforts fond and vain employ. 
 
 A Poet, more ingenious than stable. 
 Once wrote about Religion in a fable. 
 Wherein his former Faith was much decried. 
 The Faith of his adoption glorified. 
 Let's grant him honest in his change of view. 
 Nor seeking profit from opinions new; 
 Be sure the 'Hind and Panther' was not writ 
 By mercenary pen of hypocrite ; 
 This was a mighty Poet, — none the less 
 Chose strange conceits his meaning to express; 
 Thus all the Churches he as Beasts portrayed. 
 Roaming promiscuous in forest glade. 
 God made Man in His image; Dryden knew 
 A different plan — Churches as Beasts he drew, 
 The Presbyterian Wolf, the Quaker Hare, 
 The Baptist Boar and Independent Bear; 
 With these our English Church as Panther roved, 
 A doubtful Beast, in part from Grace removed. 
 Part gracious still, best of the spotted kind, 
 But foul compared with Rome's unspotted Hind. 
 
 But was this Hind immaculately white. '^ 
 Had she not claws to scratch, and teeth to bite.'^ 
 Did she not torture, burn and persecute 
 Far worse than any other Forest brute? 
 Most of the Beasts were savagely inclined. 
 Quarrelled and fought, but bloodstained was the Hii 
 
 94 
 
ENGLAND ^«^ ROME 
 
 At times the Panther, too, had tasted blood, 
 
 But she, at least, was native of the wood. 
 
 No foreigner, climbing to Sovereign height 
 
 By virtue of administrative right. 
 
 Contriving thus a Lion to provoke 
 
 Who humbled her at last amongst the Forest folk, 
 
 — But let 's have done with fables ; to impart 
 
 Religious doctrine needs a different art; 
 
 Not for a Beast's resemblance should we search. 
 
 But for a Type divine in every Church. 
 
 Yet, though divine, each Church must condescend 
 To live with mortal men as Guide and Friend, 
 And tender them her truths and ministrations 
 According to their natures and their nations; 
 Thus ours should think of Englishmen as such. 
 Not as Italians given overmuch 
 To symbols, but as men who take delight 
 To worship God with decent ancient rite. 
 But even more abhorrent to our soul 
 Has proved an Alien's usurped control. 
 That foreign Priest across our Moat should come 
 Bearer of haughty messages from Rome. 
 So John, (if afterward he craven turned), 
 As English King the Papal Legate spurned. 
 At last we broke from Rome, defied her hate. 
 Making our King supreme in Church and State. 
 A thing was done that no man should reverse, 
 A thing was done for better or for worse. 
 
 Caput Supremum! thus our King we made 
 
 95 
 
TA^ CHURCH ^/ENGLAND 
 A Pope, to whom divine respect we paid; 
 Released from Roman slough, we could not hit 
 The Narrow Way, fell in another pit. 
 And for a season deified the Crown, 
 In oriental wise to Kings bowed down. 
 Then we rebelled, then in repentance sore 
 Resumed our cult, and worshipped all the more. 
 King Charles was Martyr, almost Saint, declared; 
 His sufferings and death with Christ's compared. 
 One preached, 'Our Lord, and King, both showe 
 
 their power 
 By Miracles, both died at the ninth hour; 
 The earth did quake when Christ was crucified. 
 Strange portents filled the air when Charles was tried< 
 Another, 'But Christ's Kingdom was not here. 
 And therein Charles's loss was more severe. 
 Who walked on earth, not in mock-purple dressed 
 But in authentic robes, a King confessed; 
 And Christ was God, Whom Sin in vain assailed. 
 But Charles, a sinless man, by Grace prevailed.' 
 
 By such excesses was King James deceived, 
 And England ripe again for Rome believed. 
 Whereas this same King-worship did begin 
 In hate of Rome, thence had its origin. 
 Thus fell the second James, because his ear 
 Was tightly closed to History's lessons clear. 
 
 Unshaken, unseduced, our Church disdained 
 His threats and blandishments, and staunch remair 
 Though duped Dissent the Declaration swallowed. 
 The Church stood firm, the voice of Conscience folic 
 
 96 
 
T/;^ N O N - J U R O R S 
 
 While Anabaptists crowded to Whitehall, 
 
 The Seven went to prison, ventured all ; 
 
 As men and patriots did they withstand 
 
 The Tyrant, disobeyed his stern command. 
 
 Though they were loyal. Kingship held in awe 
 
 And Kings revered, they more revered the Law. 
 
 Not like those Seven Laymen of renown, 
 
 Who planned to drag the hated Stuart down. 
 
 From London to the Hague for ever faring. 
 
 Plotting and scheming, hoping and despairing. 
 
 Risking their heads, but playing for a stake 
 
 That might them mar, or Lords of England make, — 
 
 No, loyal still, when their old Master fled. 
 
 These could not serve a new, chose poverty instead. 
 
 These Bishops were impelled by motives pure 
 To leave their Palaces for homes obscure. 
 Or live as poor dependents on the great. 
 Surrendering their revenues and state. 
 And brightly does the good Nonjuror shine 
 In contrast with the Georgian divine. 
 Whose Churchmanship was oft identified 
 With Pluralism, Politics and Pride. 
 Let us salute the Seven! a time succeeds 
 Of Churches worldly-wise and formal Creeds; 
 Into a hibernating torpor fell 
 Much of our Church, (much of Dissent as well)^ 
 And th'active part too much to Interest 
 And Temporalities its thoughts addressed. 
 
 But pity that this oath-refusal led 
 To sad secessions, and a Schism bred! 
 
 h 97 
 
TZ;^ CHURCH ^/ENGLAND 
 
 Pity that, not for Holy Scripture's sake, 
 
 Nor against Heresy their stand to make. 
 
 But on a civil point — th' obedience all 
 
 To Caesar owe — men should in Schism fall, 
 
 Set up new Altars, Bishops consecrate. 
 
 And worship God in Temples separate! 
 
 How tempting 'tis to stray! but, well-a-day. 
 
 How strayers soon from one another stray! 
 
 Nonjurors thus, from Church of England freed, 
 
 Amongst themselves on Usage disagreed ; 
 
 To Edward's early Prayer-Book some reverted, 
 
 Others again his later Book asserted; 
 
 Some prayed for friends deceased, for the descent 
 
 Of th' Holy Ghost upon the Sacrament; 
 
 On Councils and Traditions some relied; 
 
 Others averred, since Scripture must decide, 
 
 Tradition was a sea that none might sound, 
 
 Wherein Theology was wrecked and drowned. 
 
 Thus they disputed; thus some fell a prey 
 
 To Rome, who on our Schisms waits alway. 
 
 And some, because they felt their isolation. 
 
 To th' Oriental Church made application. 
 
 Approaching with respectful salutation 
 
 Arsenius, a venerable Priest, 
 
 Archbishop of Thebais in the East, 
 
 But carried not negotiations far 
 
 With Archimandrite, Patriarch and Czar. 
 
 Ill fares it with our Englishmen who seek 
 
 Communion with the Roman or the Greek, 
 
 And little more from Patriarch and Pope 
 
 98 
 
What ^/^^ CHURCH LOST 
 
 Than frosty condescension may they hope; 
 Little they get but orders to submit. 
 Something they lose — their dignity, to wit. 
 Thus controversial war Nonjurors wage, 
 Or in eccentric enterprise engage, 
 And thus they droop, diminish, dwindle, die, 
 Bequeathing a pathetic memory. 
 If of Nonjuring Priests some twenty score 
 For Oath-refusal tribulation bore. 
 Not less respect and reverence is due 
 To those two thousand Nonconformers true. 
 Twice in a generation, at the call 
 Of conscience, clergymen surrendered all, 
 Left naked in the world ; can we not trace 
 The difference in those who took their place? 
 
 Sam Johnson once a rash Dissenter ^ gored,' 
 Who Bishops fat and drowsy Deans deplored; 
 The Doctor turned on him, with fury hot, 
 ^ You speak. Sir, as a dunce and Hottentot!' 
 Thus Johnson his opponents would confute, 
 A simple way of ending a dispute. 
 But Truth is Truth; the Church's indolence 
 In Georgian times rests on clear evidence; 
 Ab omnibus^ — the test is Catholic 
 When all the witnesses together stick. 
 Though Man, in judging Man, falls into snares, 
 An age deserves the character it bears. 
 
 Thejuring High-Church Priest might feel some sting 
 Of conscience, some compunctious visitings, 
 
 99 
 
Ty^^ CHURCH ^/ENGLAND 
 Should he, from Child's emerging, in the street 
 A shabby-cassocked, starved Nonjuror meet. 
 The juring Priest might inly feel remorse. 
 Knowing his brother steered a straighter course. 
 Had practised what he preached, had never kissed 
 The hand of an usurping Calvinist. 
 But soon, returning to his Parsonage, 
 His mind's disquiet could the Priest assuage; 
 Though Right Divine of Kings were now a dream, 
 The Priest was in his pulpit still supreme. 
 Still claimed to excommunicate for sin. 
 Still proved divine the Tithe-Right's origin. 
 And against all control made stiff his neck. 
 Boasting the Order of Melchizedek. 
 Nor least against his Bishop's rule rebelled; 
 In Bishop-baiting High-Church Priests excelled, 
 (A sport traditional, at which to-day 
 Their party in the Church will sometimes play). 
 But can we wonder if he looked askance 
 On Prelates whom King William did advance, 
 Or feared that Sarum's Lord Right Reverend 
 Might equally Dissent with Church befriend? 
 Between two rocks our Church had then to steer; 
 The Papist towered up, a danger clear ; 
 As fatally the ship might come to grief 
 Upon the sunken Presbyterian reef. 
 Nor blame the Priest, if in his nostrils stank 
 Those who their own damnation ate and drank, 
 Occasional Conformers, who would take 
 The Holy Sacrament for lucre's sake. 
 
 100 
 
TbeUIGH CHURCH TRIUMPHANT 
 
 With Anne as Queen again High Churchmen throve, 
 Mounted on high like sons of Jehu drove; 
 Their chariot went furious and fast, 
 Its wheels o'er prostrate Toleration passed; 
 Now, reaching power through Sacheverell, 
 By Politics they rose — as afterwards they fell. 
 Now, grown to be a Party in the State, 
 Church struck at Schism with an ancient hate, 
 And many to the days of Laud looked back 
 When Church and King on Freedom made attack. 
 
 But seldom has the Church her favour sought 
 From Kings, nor under Party's banner fought, 
 Seldom aspired the worldly part to play 
 Without a bitter reckoning to pay. 
 As in these latter days some Churchmen try 
 To make our new King Demos their ally. 
 To covenant with great Leviathan, 
 And draw him with a hook, sublimely plan. 
 Courting the Behemoth that knows not fear 
 And laughs to scorn the shaking of a spear, 
 These doubly err, forgetting first the Word, 
 (^ My Kingdom 's not of this World,' said our Lord), 
 And next unmindful that the Church's door 
 Should ope for high and low, for rich and poor. 
 
 And so, when Hanover came to her own. 
 High Churchmen reaped the harvest they had sown; 
 Classed with the Tories, who in turn were classed 
 With Jacobites, from Convocation cast. 
 Dismayed at Atterbury 's banishment, 
 
 lOI 
 
r>^^ CHURCH ^/ENGLAND 
 For refuge to their rectories they went. 
 But long at Oxford they preserved a sway. 
 Their party lingered there till Newman's day : 
 * Two-bottle Orthodox' 'twas called, a name 
 Well-fitted their twin tenets to proclaim. 
 'Twas these, in the Sheldonian mustering, 
 Who cheered each ^RedeatT of Tory King, 
 These made exasperated Whigs to rage 
 At Oxford, as ^of unclean birds a cage.' 
 At last a greater King the conflict closed. 
 King George the Third, most graciously disposed; 
 An Oxford Peace the Paris Peace completed. 
 When Hanover by Oxford cheers was greeted. 
 
 Meanwhile, with Hanover upon the Throne, 
 What fortunes had the Church of England known? 
 Think of this Church as Pilgrim: Churches go. 
 Like men, on pilgrimage; meet many a foe. 
 Accomplishing their warfare here below. 
 Our English Church some valiant deeds had done. 
 Fought a long fight with Giant Pope, and won. 
 His Giantship now at his cave 's door sate. 
 Biting his nails, nursing a futile hate. 
 And muttering, 'Till more of ye be burned. 
 Ye '11 never mend,' not much attention earned. 
 Then had this Pilgrim faced a Lion-King, 
 Nor was that Lion chained, but free to spring. 
 To fight a Pope with Papal Kings arrayed. 
 To stand before a Tyrant unafraid, — 
 Of valiant stuiFour Pilgrim-Church was made. 
 
 102 
 
NEGLECTED OPPORTUNITIES 
 
 Now is our Pilgrim destined to withstand 
 The Giant Deist, Adversary grand. 
 Him to beat off, but, after, lose renown 
 Inhabiting too long a carnal town, 
 The town of Vanity, and buying there 
 Preferments, Honours, perishable ware. 
 To compliment the Great One of the Fair, 
 And on a humbler Pilgrim censure cast, 
 A crazy fellow, called Enthusiast, 
 Who hurried through the Fair, and travelled fast. 
 
 Yes, scarce can we deny that, in this age. 
 The Church grew weary in her pilgrimage. 
 Wandered to Lucre Hill for golden fees, 
 Or slumbered in the narrow Plain of Ease; 
 Will she awake, regain the pathway straight. 
 Press forward through the River, find the Gate? 
 
 For, if arraigned, must she not guilty plead 
 To much neglect of England in her need? 
 Did Churches rise, as multitudes increased. 
 Where Christian folk might hear a Christian priest? 
 Alas! as the brute beasts they multiplied. 
 As heathen tens of thousands lived and died. 
 'Why sail abroad?' to Whitefield once 'twas said, 
 'That Indians may with Gospel truths be fed? 
 Are there not savages to move your pity 
 Hard by these very walls of Bristol City?' 
 To Kingswood came the Preacher, well content 
 To have for Sounding-board the firmament ; 
 A field his Church, his Pulpit was a mound. 
 But mark his congregation crowding round 
 
 103 
 
TAif CHURCH ^/ENGLAND 
 
 Of grimy colliers. Church-forgotten host, 
 By Church's sloth to Church forever lost! 
 
 Then to the second count, of pomp and greed 
 And worldliness, what has the Church to plead? 
 For pride, self-seeking and subservience, 
 For pluralistic practice what defence? 
 That one divine should hold a Bishop's see, 
 And Dean and Rector and Archdeacon be. 
 Glean all these revenues, — this is a tale 
 Of ancient wrong we cannot help bewail. 
 * Not by her equipages unsurpassed. 
 Rich dainties, furniture, and fortunes vast,' 
 Quoth Parson Adams, ^ do 1 estimate 
 The Church of England's flourishing estate.' 
 And herein Parson Adams was sincere 
 Whosewealth was three-and-twenty pounds a year 
 For Parson Adams, though a learned man 
 In Latin, Spanish, Greek, Italian, 
 Had prospered better traifficking in swine, 
 Like Parson Trulliber, that pastoral divine. 
 
 The poverty of Priests! poor still they live; 
 Still with a niggard hand we Churchmen give. 
 But, as for them, content are they to share 
 Their Master's lot. His poverty to bear. 
 Then, worse than poverty, the servile fate 
 Of those maintained in houses of the great. 
 As Mess-Johns,Trencher-Chaplains, Leviteskno\ 
 Employed on tasks befitting ill the gown. 
 In garden, stable, farm serving the Squire, 
 At menial work, for less than menial's hire. 
 
 104 
 
n^BANGORIAN CONTROVERSY 
 
 And yet the rustics, who these Chaplains poor 
 Despised as men, as Priests in honour bore; 
 Unlettered folk to Priesthood paid its due, 
 Priesthood and Church still held in reverence true. 
 WhenPriesthoodwasattacked,whence came the blow? 
 A learned Prelate was the Church's foe. 
 Bishop of Bangor, (ne'er in Bangor seen), 
 Busied himself the Priesthood to demean; 
 He minimized their office, and denied 
 That Christ left this succession when He died. 
 For if the King, who once, with all his line. 
 Inherited Authority divine. 
 Was now mere Magistrate, or President, 
 Contractor for the work of Government, 
 Why still permit the Priest in Church's name 
 A function supernatural to claim? 
 And Hoadly was a Whig, and Whigs suspect 
 From things mysterious some ill effect; 
 And Whigs are very jealous for the State, 
 So Hoadly bolted Convocation's gate. 
 Stifling debate, — for many a year to come 
 The Church was inarticulate and dumb. 
 For, if by Church we simply understand 
 All Christian folk sincere of every land. 
 Believing each according to his sense. 
 What need of Order, Rule or Conference? 
 But then 'tis strange, if earthly potentate, 
 Minded his conquests to perpetuate, 
 Appoint vice-gerents, or a chosen heir 
 Successor to his government prepare, 
 
 105 
 
rz.^ C H U R C H ^/E N G L A N D 
 
 That Christ, Who spiritual Lordship claimed. 
 At His departure no successor named. 
 Think of Him too as Lawgiver, Whose Code 
 On all mankind was equally bestowed, — 
 Can these tremendous Statutes be applied 
 Without Interpreters well-qualified. 
 Able to justify their true Intent 
 As passing ages problems new present? 
 And Hoadly was by Consecration bound 
 To this same task — to govern and expound. 
 
 With wavering leaders In her Citadel 
 The Church must now the Deist host repel. 
 External foes — but first must we recall 
 An age-long strife renewed within her wall, 
 New speculations on the Mystery 
 That in one Godhead there are Persons three. 
 Which it concerns us much to comprehend. 
 Since thereon our salvation must depend. 
 This was a saying hard, and once again 
 Men set themselves this doctrine to explain, 
 (Vain enterprise! to think that Reason's scale 
 To weigh th' imponderable will avail). 
 Fell in old snares; one sought to demonstrate 
 The Persons were, like men, distinct and separate. 
 Another, on the Godhead laying stress. 
 The Persons of the Godhead counted less. 
 So some of Tritheism stood the blame. 
 Some were reproached with the Sabellian name; 
 Others revived the doctrine Arian 
 io6 
 
The DEISTS 
 
 That Christ was less than God, but more than man; 
 
 Then of these latter not a few, we find. 
 
 To Unitarian belief declined, 
 
 And these, their Church deserting, went to swell 
 
 Her foes encamped without the Citadel. 
 
 But neither here, where either side could quote 
 The Book itself, or what the Fathers wrote, 
 Wanted the Church wise Doctors to unfold 
 With skill and learning her Tradition old. 
 And power to defend in time of need 
 Her Catholic and Athanasian Creed; 
 For still in learning has our Church excelled, 
 Howe'er at times in Sloth's dominion held. 
 Nor now she feared new foes of bolder wit. 
 Who turning from the God of Holy Writ, 
 Proclaimed a God by Nature's law revealed. 
 To Nature's, not to Scripture's, God appealed. 
 
 Now Nature was exalted, magnified. 
 Order and Truth with nature were allied. 
 Nature at peace, not red in tooth and claw. 
 But Nature under a benignant law. 
 Not savage Man, dwelling in rocky lair. 
 Dressed in the shaggy pelt of wolf or bear. 
 Creeping from cave, arming himself to fight 
 With axe of flint, a brutal Troglodyte ; 
 Nor Man arboreal, from tree to tree 
 Leaping, like ape, in hylobatic glee; 
 But primal Man, of perfect shape and mind, 
 A stately creature, innocent and kind. 
 
 107 
 
T/f;^ CHURCH. /ENGLAND 
 Lo the poor Indian! there was Nature's child, 
 Still uncorrupt, intelligent and mild. 
 To whom the Sun, Moon, Stars and Firmament 
 Revealed a Governor beneficent; 
 Free was this creature, — but, with all his tribe, 
 Ready the Social Compact to subscribe. 
 And lo the Chinaman! to far Cathay- 
 How apt those speculators were to stray! 
 Must China's countless millions be impeached 
 And damned, because they heard no Gospel preache 
 Why, but St Paul had promised, in effect, 
 That Nature might the Gentile folk protect. 
 Enabling them, by Nature thus sustained, 
 To do those things that are by Law ordained. 
 So then what need for Christ to pay the price 
 If Nature for Salvation would suflfice? 
 Thus, even if the Scripture be the test, 
 Scripture could be to Nature's service pressed. 
 Then let Divines, interpreting the page 
 Of Scripture, in logomachies engage; 
 Who studied Nature's book, need ne 'er be vexed 
 By doubtful reading, or disputed text. 
 The Seasons and the Tides, the Fruits and Flower 
 The ripening Suns and fertilizing Showers, 
 The Sea and all therein, the Mountain-rills, 
 The Flocks and Herds upon a thousand Hills, 
 Were these not things, by Reason understood. 
 That argued a Designer wise and good. 
 Wise in the wondrous system He employed. 
 Good, for His blessings were by Man enjoyed? 
 io8 
 
RELIGION ^«^ NATURE 
 
 As Adam, finding all things well and fair, 
 Fresh fountains, groves ambrosial, vernal air. 
 Umbrageous grots, trees odorous with balm, 
 And streams of nectar, raised his morning psalm, 
 Praising the God from Whom Creation came, 
 ^Almighty, Thine this universal frame! ' 
 So Deists, following their Reason's light, 
 A Ruler praised of wisdom infinite. 
 And cried aloud, 'Whatever is, is right/ 
 
 The Church, at first, seemed minded with respect 
 To treat this Nature-deifying sect, 
 With caution took her stand, no claim pretended 
 That Nature by Religion was transcended. 
 But civilly professed herself content 
 If both their spheres were deemed coincident. 
 Affirming that the Christian Dispensation 
 Of Nature's Law was a 'republication,' — 
 (A new Edition, with some annotation). 
 But soon we hear a bolder challenge sound, 
 'Tis asked, 'Is Nature then so perfect found? 
 Has she no darker side? Consider well. 
 Does Nature's God Religion's God excel? 
 Nature to some misdoings must confess, 
 A second world must Nature's world redress. 
 To balance our account of weal and woe. 
 All that we've sinned and suffered here below. 
 And did not Nature to our Saviour yield. 
 When He Himself by miracles revealed, 
 Suspending Nature's laws, that He might shine 
 
 109 
 
T/^^ CHURCH (7/ ENGLAND 
 Superior to Nature, and Divine?' 
 'But these are idle tales/ the Deist cries. 
 'Nay, these are Evidential Mysteries, 
 Not esoteric, subtle or obscure, 
 But capable of proof exact and sure.' 
 'What proof.?' A Bishop, searching for a test. 
 Who, Temple-bred, for law retained a zest, 
 Thought cross-examination was the best, 
 Imagining a Court set up to try 
 The Witnesses of Christ for perjury; 
 Thus might the crowning miracle of all. 
 Our Saviour's Resurrection, stand or fall. 
 In strict Old Bailey style were these proceedings, 
 Jury and Judge, drawn and amended pleadings, 
 The case is opened, evidence is heard, 
 The Judge sums up, well weighing every word, 
 The Jury hear him with an open mind, 
 Consult, the prisoners Not Guilty find. 
 So Christian truth Is tried, and wins Its case. 
 In rebus judicatis takes Its place, 
 And from a second charge secure can feel. 
 To ^Nemo his vexari ' may appeal. 
 
 Now some the claim of Faith more boldly state, 
 And Reason's rash presumption castigate, 
 'Reason and Faith can ne'er be reconciled, 
 Faith reasoned is self-contradiction wild. 
 Reason Is but the means unto an end. 
 Whereby we Revelation comprehend ; 
 To read, mark, learn and Inwardly digest 
 
 no 
 
COUNTRY PARSONS 
 
 Eternal Truth, Is man with Reason blest.' 
 
 Then how could Nature's God, Abstraction cold, 
 Man's reverence, or Man's allegiance hold? 
 Would Man for pardon, in repentance sore, 
 A Being metaphysical implore? 
 Or, in distress, afflicted and afraid. 
 Call on a Great First Cause to lend him aid? 
 This Great First Cause, though most august and good, 
 By Pope's admission was 4east understood,' 
 Ill-understood by Pope and wits refined. 
 Not understood at all by folk of simple mind. 
 
 For these disputes of Orthodox and Arian, 
 Atheist, Deist, Latitudinarian, 
 Now buried deep in tome and folio, 
 Forgotten treatises of long ago. 
 Let's not forget, were far beyond the ken 
 Of simple-minded and unlettered men. 
 As now, these went to Church on Sabbath-day, 
 Heard what the Parson said, and came away. 
 Of Parsons, some were good and eloquent. 
 Some to read others' sermons were content. 
 As Nimrods some excelled, as farmers more 
 Toiled hard to supplement their livings poor, 
 Toiled all the week, the Sabbath found them tired, 
 Perhaps their hearers thought them ill-inspired ; 
 Their sheep were poorly fed, and not a few 
 Were much disposed to follow shepherds new. 
 
 But these at least some pastor's care enjoyed; 
 What thousands v/ere of shepherds quite devoid! 
 
 Ill 
 
Ty^^ CHURCH. /ENGLAND 
 
 In mining Camps, in scenes more dismal still 
 Peopled by slaves of Factory and Mill, 
 No Preacher's voice was heard, no Church-bell tol] 
 No Priest the dying penitent consoled. 
 To these at last came Weslev in their need, 
 (Truly the soil was ready for the seed). 
 Proclaimed in simple words God's saving Grace, 
 That could all sin and wickedness efface. 
 Make fit for Heaven — but should men repel 
 The means of Grace, bade them prepare for Hell. 
 They heard and heeded, in their hearts received 
 His winged arrows, multitudes believed; 
 The swearer and blasphemer were ashamed. 
 The drunkard and the profligate reclaimed; 
 By ways reformed their change of heart expressed. 
 Clear proof that Wesley's ministry was blessed. 
 
 O Mystery! that Grace should thus abound 
 To bring forth fruit from such a stony ground! 
 Reason could not this marvel have achieved. 
 Nor only guidance from the Book received; 
 It was an Inner Light, that visited 
 The sinner's soul, miraculously shed. 
 But first, while still the brightness was obscured. 
 What fearful pangs of birth must be endured! 
 What struggles, groans, contortions, agonies. 
 Convulsions, paroxysms, anguished cries! 
 Some wept aloud, some leaped in th'air, some seem 
 As 'twere possessed by devils, stamped and screame 
 Then in a stupor fell, then free of pain 
 
 112 
 
PERFECTION 
 Awoke, — thus were converted, born again. 
 Rejoiced like Christian, when those strings did crack 
 That bound the heavy burden to his back, 
 Regenerate by this plerophory 
 Of Grace, sin and the Devil could defy. 
 Perfection next they claimed, through second birth 
 To live by faith perfected. Saints on earth. 
 Wesley at first this tempting doctrine owned, 
 But, wiser grown. Perfection's date postponed, 
 Bade all believers work, as if for life. 
 Until, their glory won, they quitted mortal strife. 
 'Twixt Faith and Works a contest then began, 
 Arminian strove with Antinomian; 
 The Calvinists, all Works esteeming light, 
 Made war on Wesley, plunged into the fight, 
 Affirming, in their solifidian pride. 
 That none by merits could be justified. 
 Only the few Elect to Heaven attained. 
 And all the rest to Hell were fore-ordained. 
 To these a noble Lady succour lent. 
 Her Chapels built, found Chaplains eloquent. 
 Whom even Bishops heard from curtained pew 
 (Called Nicodemus' Corner) screened from view. 
 Thus rival altars rose, thus once again 
 Seceders from the Church were split in twain. 
 
 But stay, not yet the formal breach was made ; 
 ' Be Church of England men ! ' still Wesley bade. 
 How came Secession then? and, when it came. 
 Was Wesley or his Mother-Church to blame. '^ 
 
 i 113 
 
T/&^ CHURCH ^/ENGLAND 
 
 Let 's leave It thus, — a movement had begun, 
 Which on a fated course was bound to run. 
 
 Conceive yourself, dear Reader, (if you can), 
 A Parson of that age, a godly man. 
 Wedded to custom, order, and routine ; 
 You take a stroll across the Village-green; 
 What means the crowd? your folk are gathering fas 
 Around a voluble Enthusiast. 
 He raves, gesticulates with frequent groan. 
 As Heathen who bow down to wood and stone, 
 He conjures them his message new to hear — 
 The Gospel you have preached for forty year. 
 His words take hold; some stare as if distraught; 
 Some sigh and sob as in a frenzy caught; 
 Some are convulsed, scarce can you recognize 
 Your Villagers, scarce can believe your eyes. 
 There Blacksmith Giles in stupefaction sits. 
 Now Ploughman John cries out, — he's lost his wit 
 The Preacher's Anabaptist, you suspect. 
 Or Prophet of the Muggletonian sect; 
 And now the Squire appears, explodes with rage. 
 Threatens the Methody with stocks and cage, 
 Aye ! with his horsewhip ; while you sooth the Squin 
 You share his feelings, half-approve his ire; 
 Your Church, you vow, that Preacher ne'er shall er 
 Condemn him as a pestilent Dissenter. 
 
 This scene imagine, and you'll understand 
 Why Wesley,Priest ordained, by Church was bam 
 But he for bounds parochial little cared, 
 ^ The whole world is my Parish,' oft declared. 
 
 114 
 
WESLEY ORDAINS 
 His Ministers, since pulpits were denied. 
 Preached first in fields, or on the mountain-side; 
 Later, to shelter them from wind and rain, 
 Their faithful built them Meeting-houses plain ; 
 Here some, more humble-minded, were content 
 To preach, but some, on higher function bent. 
 Aspired t' administer thcSacrament. 
 These Wesley would rebuke, but, year by year. 
 Of Priests-assistant felt the need severe. 
 Till one Erasmus helped him in his stress, 
 Greek Bishop from Arcadian diocese. 
 Ordained his laymen — whence it plain appeared 
 That Greeks, when bringing gifts, are to be feared. 
 Then, since 'twas vain on Prelates to rely 
 Who might to realms Arcadian homeward fly, 
 Wesley convinced himself, — what's in a name? — 
 That Presbyter and Bishop were the same. 
 No longer from the fateful act refrained, 
 But boldly his own Ministers ordained. 
 
 If Grace to laying-on of hands be owed. 
 Surely by Wesley's touch was Grace bestowed; 
 And yet with that ordaining hand he dealt 
 His Mother-Church a blow for ever felt, 
 A Church whose rulers bear a Bishop's name, 
 And Apostolical Succession claim. 
 Nor even now with others will unite 
 Except they grant Episcopacy's right. 
 Now was the parting, now the final cleft. 
 Now Wesley's flock the Church's pastures left, 
 
 115 
 
T/;^ CHURCH. /ENGL AND 
 Defection sadly felt, ('tis not denied), 
 But men and Churches must by loss be tried. 
 Rome lost North Europe ; is she then to-day 
 Less mighty than when Luther broke away? 
 America we lost; did then the sun 
 Of England set, no more its course to run? 
 A wrong possession may be best atoned 
 By losing what was never truly owned. 
 Perchance the crowds, round Wesley's feet that thn 
 To Church but as parishioners belonged. 
 Or, even if they worshipped there, disdained 
 Her rites, and Puritan at heart remained. 
 Nor less did Wesley's influence pervade 
 Some who within the Church of England stayed, 
 Men who their lives to noble effbrts gave. 
 Built schools, established missions, freed the slave 
 Zeal evangelical, now tree full grown. 
 Sprang from the seed that was by Wesley sown. 
 
 Thus fervent Evangelicals arose 
 The Church to strengthen at this era's close. 
 To thousands made appeal, who nothing cared 
 For Reason, or whom Orthodoxy scared. 
 These then preferment gained, and greater grown, 
 Set up an Orthodoxy of their own. 
 But here we travel past our bounds; we've viewed 
 The Church in many a strange vicissitude; 
 How has she therein proved? may we essay 
 Her faults and virtues in a scale to weigh? 
 Open the ledger, on the debit-side 
 Write earthliness, subservience and pride; 
 Nothing extenuate, but you must bring 
 
 ii6 
 
A CHURCH MILITANT 
 
 This credit-item to the reckoning, 
 
 That she, by many a doughty foe engaged, 
 
 Defensive warfare not ignobly waged. 
 
 Some fought her from without, wholly denied 
 
 Religion's truth, and Reason deified; 
 
 Some, from within, set out to minimize 
 
 Her Office, or by Schism paralyse; 
 
 Then came Enthusiasts, Church order spurned. 
 
 Leagued with Dissent against her Clergy turned. 
 
 Foursquare she stood to all her foes, — Schismatic, 
 Heresiarch, Philosopher, Fanatic, 
 As soldiers, forming an unbroken square, 
 Shock after shock with stubborn patience bear. 
 Stand fast for hours, till at the day's decline 
 They hear the welcome call, ^Advance in line !' 
 Concede her then the title Militant, 
 Though certain of her soldiers, we must grant. 
 Eschewed an active service, drew their pay 
 Living on furlough, careless of the fray. 
 
 Nor did this age the forward Movement see 
 Which set the Church from her defensive free, 
 A forward move, — yet from a backward view 
 Its leaders all their inspiration drew. 
 Far back beyond these times, wherein, they taught, 
 The Church was almost as a thing of nought. 
 The henchman of the State, of lifeless creed, 
 Still to pretentious Reason giving heed. 
 Apostate, — this they called her, censure hard. 
 From merit thus the Georgian Church debarred. 
 Nonjurors might deserve a Churchman's name, 
 
 117 
 
T/^^ CHURCH ^/ENGLAND 
 
 All others under condemnation came. 
 
 Again those ancient sources were explored. 
 
 The Fathers and the Councils were restored ; 
 
 'Twas well; if to its past we do not look. 
 
 An Institution is a sealed book. 
 
 But there to stay th' inquiry, not to tell 
 
 Of intervening years was not so well; 
 
 To end with Laud or Ken, as if a sleep 
 
 Then fell upon the Church prolonged and deep. 
 
 Till Keble, with his Sermon of Assize, 
 
 Or Newman*s Tracts the Sleeper should surprise! 
 
 She 'd lived, not slept ; erred, struggled, suffered, gr 
 
 Of great events, great thoughts the stamp received 
 
 She'd lived indeed; but can we say she grew? 
 She lived apart, and isolation knew; 
 Lived shut within her island, or at most 
 Had sailed bilander-wise along the coast. 
 Unfruitful lived, incurious of her source. 
 Lived as a protest, not an active force. 
 
 Those Oxford men of glory and renown 
 Struck off her fetters, broke her fences down; 
 Revived her ancient Catholic estate. 
 Her uses and her services ornate; 
 They made her structure splendid, well assured 
 'Twas founded firm and deep, had long endured. 
 
 Be not forgotten those of humbler role 
 Who in their time preserved that structure whole. 
 Not studious to beautify the fane. 
 Nor much enlarge, but simply to maintain. 
 
 ii8 
 
ENDING OF THE CENTURY 
 
 THIS Eighteenth Century stirred up the bile 
 Of our morose philosopher Carlyle; 
 A Swindler Century, (thus spoke the Sage), 
 A specious, hypocrite, false, bankrupt age. 
 Torpid and frivolous the folk it bred, 
 (Except a certain King, whose name was Fred), 
 Still one good action cannot be denied, — 
 The Century committed suicide. 
 Upon a French volcano chose to sit. 
 Which, then exploding, made an end of it. 
 Thus did th' accursed Century expire 
 Consumed by revolutionary fire. 
 And thus its falsities, oppressions, shames 
 All perished in the fury of the flames. 
 
 In France, at least, this fearful thing befell. 
 The French volcano did its duty well. 
 And for a season belched its lava spate. 
 Burnt and destroyed, made all things desolate ; 
 Then slaughter followed fire, that thus the nation 
 In ' baths of blood ' might find regeneration. 
 And Mirabeau, to soften Freedom's bed. 
 Bade ^ mattresses of corpses ' to be spread. 
 All this was done, — regenerating blood 
 From France's veins poured in a ceaseless flood, 
 
 119 
 
E N D I N G ^/ ^ /E'^ C E N T U R Y 
 
 And myriads of corpses were supplied 
 For Freedom's ease and comfort to provide. 
 But still we doubt if, resting on a heap 
 Of corpses. Freedom can enjoy her sleep. 
 Can baths of blood refresh and purify? 
 Is not the bather, brutalized thereby, 
 To bloody deeds impelled.^ 
 
 Let 's thankful be 
 That England's annals from such stains are free. 
 No Carrier, no Robespierre abhorred, 
 Noyades, nor prison-massacres record, 
 No devil-Marat, no Egalite, 
 Swiss-eating cannibals, nor brigand-Marseillais! 
 
 Yes, these were sad excesses, 'twas confessed. 
 But bear in mind, the French were sore oppressed; 
 ' Evils of passage,' (thus did Fox advise 
 Progressive Whigs those ills to minimize). 
 The darkest night precedes the fairest morn, 
 Severe the throes when Liberty is born. 
 In mighty overturns some must go down, 
 Rose-water Revolutions scarce are known, 
 And, if some doubtful methods be deplored. 
 Think on the end — the Rights of Man restored. 
 
 The rights of Man! O rare, refreshing phrase! 
 If these he could resume, how sweet his days! 
 His birth-rights! once, in Nature's state, enjoyed. 
 By Nobles,Priests and Kings long since destroyed. 
 Poor hopeful Man ! how did his hopes decay ! 
 Poor simple Man! of subtler Man the prey. 
 
 120 
 
The RIGHTS ^/MAN 
 
 For mark what rights this Revolution gave, — 
 The sacred right to riot and to rave. 
 To hear the Demagogues, swallow their lies, 
 To starve in artificial scarcities, 
 Hang Foulon, innocent of their distress. 
 On to Versailles tumultuously press, 
 To Paris thence their King in triumph draw. 
 Where they should murder him by forms of law. 
 Then kill their Queen, carouse at Reason's feasts. 
 Deny their God, exterminate their Priests, — 
 Themselves to suffer, as their turn came round. 
 By thousands guillotined, in batches drowned. 
 Slaughtered like sheep, while their Decemvirs plannec 
 New projects to depopulate the land. 
 
 Then, at the Terror's close, what further rights 
 Accrued to supplement those past delights? 
 The right to serve a Soldier-Despot's will. 
 Dragged from their homes his regiments to fill. 
 Toil over Alps, scorch under Egypt's sky. 
 Or sink on Russian steppes to freeze and die. 
 
 A mighty Revolution, 'tis agreed. 
 Its epoch-making vastness we concede. 
 Affecting all the world for good or ill, — 
 But which .? is not the answer doubtful still ^ 
 Mostly have our Philosophers resolved 
 For good, since Human Progress is involved: 
 A forward step ; but let them count the cost — 
 Has France by Revolution gained or lost.^ 
 
 Alas for France! great wrongs her people bore, 
 
 121 
 
ENDING ^///^^ CENTURY 
 
 Neglect, misgovernment, taxation sore. 
 But then the remedies they chose for these 
 Were far more violent than the disease. 
 But did they choose them.^^ No, they were enslaved, 
 Blind dupes of men subversive and depraved, 
 ^ Illuminati ' called, a sect accursed. 
 In whose fell doctrines Mirabeau was versed; 
 He learnt them at Berlin, to Paris brought, 
 Through secret Lodges spread the poisoned though 
 There they debated, there the means they found 
 To level Throne and Altar with the ground ; 
 There they forged rumours false, the mob inflamed 
 To frightful acts that human nature shamed. 
 Thus Revolution's fateful course we rue ; 
 First dreams are dreamt that ne'er on earth come tn 
 And men the Golden Age approaching see 
 When all shall be fraternal, equal, free; 
 Then disillusion, — still the world's the same. 
 They hunger, thirst, are cold; and who's to blame .'^ 
 Then passions, fears, which men of crafty wit 
 To fury turn for their own benefit; 
 These in the background lurk, there feast and thrive 
 Safe from the Thracian orgies they contrive. 
 
 The world full-circle turns; our eyes, of late, 
 Have seen the ruin of a mighty State; 
 The self-same process, — first, the people rose. 
 Dethroned their Czar, loquacious rulers chose; 
 All now was well, now love should rule the State, 
 With peace, — what though the foe were at the gate.'* 
 
 122 
 
ENGLAND ««i//^^ REVOLUTION 
 Their soldiers, this abounding love to show. 
 Leapt from their trenches and embraced the foe. 
 Where are those soldiers now? or in their graves. 
 Or of inhuman Tyranny the slaves. 
 Where are those Men of Feeling, who forbade 
 Death-penalties.'^ these they themselves have paid. 
 All hope, all joy has vanished : what remains.^ 
 Starvation, Torture, Death, — the Terror reigns. 
 Let's learn a twice-taught lesson, and be wise; 
 A double warning only fools despise. 
 
 England applauded when the Bastille fell, 
 England was free — let France be free as well. 
 Our young and ardent poets were enchanted. 
 Sang hymns of praise, (some afterwards recanted). 
 Fox glorified the deed, which he would own 
 The greatest and the best the world had known ; 
 Old Horace Walpole wrote congratulation 
 To Hannah More, (but with a reservation 
 Lamenting the destruction of the pile, 
 An ancient sample of castellar style). 
 Even the cautious Pitt made bold to state 
 That soon the Revolution would abate; 
 France would be free, should France be criticized 
 For those same sentiments that Britain prized? 
 
 Free England, generous England, deemed it fair 
 That all the world her liberty should share. 
 Trusting that France, her noise and tumult ended. 
 To follow English precedent intended. 
 To strip her King of Right Divine, but give 
 
 123 
 
ENDING ^///^^ CENTURY 
 
 A Civil List, retain Prerogative; 
 
 To build an Upper House, that might say No, 
 
 (Except on taxes), to the House below; 
 
 Construct, in short, a Constitution neat, 
 
 With Revolution Families complete. 
 
 And checks and counter-checks, and thus provoke 
 
 The envy of all despot-ridden folk. 
 
 But one there was who, from the first, with gloom 
 Saw in these French transactions France's doom; 
 Burke saw her doom, and England's doom at hand, 
 If French pollutions should infect our land; 
 On Rights of Man poured scorn, extolled instead 
 The Rights that Englishmen inherited, 
 And boldly catalogued, these rights among. 
 The right to be restrained from doing wrong. 
 In France restraint was gone, a King degraded, 
 A slandered Queen, their Palaces invaded; 
 A Church despoiled and Priests in prison pent. 
 An Atheism by Establishment; 
 Statesmanship dead, but orators pretentious 
 In Coffee-houses giddy and licentious; 
 Perfect Democracy, most shameless thing 
 And so most fearless, wholly triumphing. 
 By thieves and cut-throats governed; fools sublime 
 Who only purchased Poverty by Crime, 
 And on their ruined country laid the curse 
 To live in Schism with the Universe. 
 
 Thus Burke depicted France, such chaos reigned 
 Where Man claimed rights by duties unrestrained. 
 
 124 
 
BURKE a«i/>^^ CONSTITUTION 
 For Man, he taught, has duties manifold 
 By which his lordly rights must be controlled. 
 As firstly charities that children owe 
 To parents, and from no compulsion flow; 
 Then claims, that from his primal instincts rise, 
 Of wife and child. Nature's insistent ties; 
 Human relationships and common needs 
 Oblige him to be just, not covenants nor deeds. 
 Imposing, irrespective of his will. 
 Unwritten laws, which yet he must fulfil; 
 These Man made not for Man, these he must deem . 
 The orders of a Governor Supreme, 
 The Author of his being. Who defines 
 For each his sphere, to each his part assigns. 
 
 To neighbour, child and wife if Man be bound, 
 A claim superior shall his Country found. 
 Coercive, awful, grateful too and dear 
 This duty, not to soil and region mere. 
 But to that ancient Order of the State 
 Which he must love, and keep inviolate. 
 
 What was this Order, awful and august. 
 That England, now in peril, had to trust 
 As guardian of her honour and her life 
 Through twenty years of War and civil strife. 
 
 Three parts. King, Lords and Commons, it contained ; 
 The King by right hereditary reigned, 
 A King by strict succession, — once alone 
 A trifling deviation had been known; 
 But even then, with huntsman's instinct fine, 
 
 125 
 
ENDING ^//>^^ CENTURY 
 
 We made a cast, and soon re-struck the line. 
 
 Likewise, as an inheritance entailed. 
 The Commons' rights and franchises availed, 
 But not for ruling; those that ploughed and sowed, 
 Or oxen drove and gloried in the goad, 
 (As in Ecclesiasticus is writ). 
 High in the congregation may not sit; 
 This Burke approved, — Wisdom was Leisure's pride, 
 He that hath little business shall be wise. 
 
 True Aristocracy, the favoured Few, 
 They only this ennobling leisure knew. 
 Leisure to read, reflect, court men renowned 
 For worth and wisdom wheresoever found. 
 Those Few, in scenes of estimation bred. 
 In honour trained, with old tradition fed. 
 Formed to be vigilant and circumspect 
 In peace and war, as knowing that neglect 
 Is visited with ruinous effect; 
 To rule, instruct, injustice to redress; 
 Each liberal art and science to profess; — 
 O happy Few! who, to the purple born. 
 Were taught so well the purple to adorn. 
 
 This was the commonwealth Burke eulogized. 
 Ne'er had a state more perfect been devised. 
 Unchanged since '88, when we detected 
 Its peccant part, and cautiously corrected. 
 But with the tenderest regard proceeded 
 For other parts that no correction needed. 
 
 A fixed and static system. But, we know, 
 
 126 
 
ENCLOSURE of t^e COMMON-LANDS 
 
 Communities organically grow, 
 Hamlets to towns, increasing day by day, 
 While ancient boroughs dwindle and decay; 
 Should these their men to Parliament still send 
 And those to no such privilege pretend. 
 Conforming to an antiquated plan 
 That suited in the reign of good Queen Anne? 
 Old Sarum in two members still rejoice. 
 While Manchester her wishes might not voice? 
 
 To such complaints Burke scornfully replied, 
 Once more the Constitution justified. 
 Which to towns unenfranchised kindly gives 
 The King and Lords for representatives. 
 To serve as joint and several trustees 
 Of equal rights for men of all degrees. 
 
 Thus was the system shewn a thing Divine, 
 And by its imperfections still to shine; 
 Thus Burke and War and Revolution-fears 
 Prolonged its lease another forty years. 
 At last it fell. But for one fault alone 
 Did Oligarchy by this fall atone? 
 Only because they boroughs sold and bought 
 Were English oligarchs tojudgment brought? 
 
 Our Lords and Squires, broad-acred potentates, 
 Loved country life, lived much on their estates ; 
 Not like Seigneurs of France, who scarce supported 
 A rural exile,and to Court resorted. 
 Our nobles loved their lands; but, records tell. 
 They loved the lands of humbler folk as well, 
 
 127 
 
ENDING of the CENTURY 
 The Common lands, an ancient heritage. 
 Waste lands and woodland, plough and pasturage. 
 
 'Twas in this century that greedy hands 
 By legal process seized the Common lands; 
 A thing was done that scarce may be defended, 
 But those, that did it, motives fair pretended. 
 As though by public spirit actuated 
 Their poorer neighbours' fields they sequestrated; 
 First, on an economical pretence 
 That little strips were farmed at great expense. 
 Which, held in gross, by methods up-to-date 
 One might more profitably cultivate; 
 And next, 'twas said, these Commoners o'erprized 
 Their Common-right, became demoralized. 
 Lazily sauntered after hog or goose. 
 Waxed insolent, contracted habits loose. 
 And were too often in the Tavern seen 
 Shirking the dull day-labourer's routine. 
 In short 'twas argued thus: — ^Enclose Otmoor, 
 And so improve the morals of the poor.' 
 
 Our English poor had suffered ills immense. 
 The wrath of Kings, famine and pestilence. 
 The fires of bigot Priests, taxation's load. 
 Private oppression. Law's remorseless code. 
 For petty theft been hanged, for debt immured. 
 For slight transgression scourging dire endured, — 
 All this they 'd borne; but, worse than all before. 
 These sermons of the wealthy plagued the poor. 
 
 For now, with catastrophic France in mind, 
 
 128 
 
PROSECUTION ^///^^ PROFANE 
 Our upper folk to graver views inclined. 
 Churches and chapels filled; men were afraid; 
 To God, as well as King, their duty paid; 
 Formed leagues the Sabbath-breaker to restrain. 
 To punish blasphemies and speech profane. 
 But so it happened that the righteous stroke 
 Fell ever on the backs of humbler folk; 
 The Squire still swore with absolute impunity, 
 The labourer must watch his opportunity. 
 Excess was censured; did not Hannah More 
 Glassworkers' sinful luxury deplore. 
 Their vegetables choice, joints smoking-hot, 
 Washed down by draughts of ale from foaming pot.^ 
 But, if these labourers to waste were prone, 
 Surely the Heir Apparent set the tone. 
 
 As for our Commoners, their lazy bent 
 Was throughly cured by Acts of Parliament, 
 Enclosure Acts, while incidentally 
 Their righteous mentors were enriched thereby. 
 Production was increased; who was to blame. 
 If many a farmer labourer became. 
 And labourer incurred a pauper's shame.'' 
 If some, who once their little homesteads owned, 
 Harnessed to parish-carts now toiled and groaned.^ 
 
 Yes, these were slaves, and Lords Industrial 
 Held the Town labourer in equal thrall ; 
 Sad is the story, (but it has been told). 
 Of spinners who at forty years were old. 
 Of health and strength quite sacrificed to gold; 
 
 k 129 
 
ENDING ^//>^^ CENTURY 
 
 Of girls, on hands and knees compelled to creep, 
 
 Dragging the go-cart in the coalmine deep; 
 
 Of prentice-children, quartered next the mill. 
 
 Thrashed and exploited at their master's will. 
 
 Much in those years we heard of the distresses 
 
 Of Ali-Khan, wrongs done to Oude's Princesses, 
 
 Shaw AUum's grievances, oppressions sad 
 
 In far Benares and Farruckabad, 
 
 Splendid harangues, demanding the disgrace 
 
 Of one who preyed upon a subject race. 
 
 But might not Burke,whose feeling heart would bleed, 
 
 Whene'er he saw men victimized by greed. 
 
 With more tremendous pathos have revealed 
 
 The woes of Burslem or of Macclesfield? 
 
 Thus were loud murmurings heard underground 
 That in the Senate rare expression found. 
 Alas! the Fathers of our Constitution 
 Had not foreseen Industrial Revolution; 
 And, since that Constitution, as we know. 
 Had reached perfection years and years ago. 
 Never could it be changed, so, (cursed spitel) 
 'Twould seem these wrongs could never be set right. 
 
 Good Hannah More, who wrote a Tract applauded, 
 Wherein Sir John's fine castle was belauded, 
 Was forced in that fine castle to remark 
 Some ill-constructed rooms and closets dark. 
 ^ But,' quoth Sir John, *my castle lasted out 
 The Civil wars — though sadly knocked about. 
 And at the Revolution, 'tis believed, 
 
 130 
 
PITT DRAWS /^^ SWORD 
 Only some needful slight repairs received; 
 I will not pull it down.' 
 
 1 hold the Knight, 
 In saving his ancestral home, did right ; 
 But, none the less, part of that castle fair, 
 K peccant ^?irty had long required repair. 
 
 Not now could those repairs be put in hand; 
 What scaffolding can hurricanes withstand? 
 The storm of War was loosed, and in War's storm 
 Who hears the voices pleading for Reform? 
 For War breeds Want, and Want breeds Discontent, 
 And soon Despair in Riot finds a vent. 
 Then Rulers to Repression have recourse. 
 Old rights suspend, new statutes harsh enforce. 
 Thus crimes and punishments, at mounting rate 
 Of compound interest, accumulate; 
 And philosophic folk, of later times. 
 Bemoan this tale of punishments and crimes. 
 
 Yet Pitt, on economic effort set. 
 Reducing taxes, armaments and debt. 
 Who loved the tasks of Peace, and War abhorred. 
 Only from sheer compulsion drew the sword, 
 But, having drawn it, saw the struggle clear 
 For Country, Freedom, — all that men hold dear;, 
 So not at France alone were aimed his blows, 
 He struck at dangerous domestic foes, 
 The Cosmopolitans — some shallow fools. 
 But some were Revolution's willing tools. 
 
 Who knows the tempest best? he that outrides 
 Its t^rors? or that safe on land abides? 
 
ENDING of the CENTURY 
 
 Pitt sailed a fearful course; he better knew 
 Than we the mutineers amongst his crew — 
 A peril worse than all the gales that blew. 
 
 Was Fox a mutineer? Fox, who unmoved 
 The smiles and frowns of fickle Fortune proved; 
 Fox, idolized by friends; himself a friend 
 On whom th 'oppressed and weak could still depend, 
 Hater of cant, profuse, improvident. 
 Near all his days in Opposition spent; 
 Bold, not o'erscrupulous, — and then, who knows 
 But this exclusion might his mind dispose 
 Against all Government to bear a grudge. 
 And England by her Governments misjudge? 
 Thus, when to France Doyle's expedition sailed. 
 Fox hoped to hear the news that it had failed. 
 And thus he worshipped Bonaparte, (as now 
 Our Intellectuals to Trotzky bow). 
 Strange thoughts had Fox, as he himself allowed, 
 Stranger than could with prudence be avowed. 
 His was a noble heart, men cherish yet 
 His memory, — but some things we regret. 
 Nor least the fell example that he set. 
 
 Now for the first time, in these closing years. 
 Our anti-English Englishman appears; 
 Much has he flourished since, much comforted 
 His country's foes, and with delusions fed; 
 A man of Peace, but holds the counsel cheap 
 That only strong men armed the peace may keep ; 
 For all the world, he's sure, must share his mind, 
 
 132 
 
n^COUTRY SUPPORTS PITT 
 Will follow Peace, be gentle, harmless^ kind; 
 S05 should his Country arm — e'en for defence, 
 'Tis Guilt conspiring against Innocence. 
 England is ever guilty; England's foe 
 Is, ex hypothesis as pure as snow. 
 
 Who thought such thoughts in great Eliza's reign. 
 When Englishmen defied the ships of Spain? 
 OrwhenDutch William waged his wars with France? 
 Or in those years of Chatham's dominance? 
 Was now the peril less ? no, greater far ; 
 With something superhuman Pitt made war, 
 A monstrous thing, that, travelling thro' air 
 The heart and soul of England to impair. 
 Before four years had passed, (if Burke's correct). 
 Contrived one-fifth of England to infect. 
 
 No wonder that our poor were visited. 
 And this contagion through their hovels spread. 
 * You suffer Wrongs, and we your Rights proclaim,' 
 If this they heard with joy, were they to blame? 
 For, since those Wrongs were known that they endured 
 So much the more those unknown Rights allured. 
 
 And yet most Britons for their native land, 
 As they were Britons born, took up their stand; 
 And many changed their minds, who once were charmed 
 By doctrines of Disruption, grew alarmed ; 
 Tom Paine declined from popularity. 
 Was burnt with Fawkes as a November Guy, 
 And whereas few could be provoked to bawl 
 ' Millions be free! ' ^Fall, Tyrants, fall, fall, fall!' 
 Since France was France, and England England still, 
 ' God save the King! ' was chorussed with a will. 
 
 133 
 
EN DING ^//>^^ CENTURY 
 
 * God save the King!' Why did they intercede 
 With God for George, in this their hour of need? 
 What had George done to merit their affection? 
 Why look to George's wisdom for protection? 
 Of wisdom, truly, were they ill-assured, 
 King George's wits had lately been obscured ; 
 But just for this their pity did he win, 
 And love, we know, to pity is akin; 
 Then his unfashionably decent life. 
 His thrift, his faithfulness to wedded wife. 
 Virtues not shining, commonplace almost, 
 And such as half our English tomb-stones boast, — 
 Yet these endeared, as virtues rich and rare 
 Contrasted with their absence in his Heir. 
 Then Englishmen approved his farming bent, 
 And that in study little time he spent; 
 Then he was stout of heart; if others failed 
 When Gordon's mob was loosed, George never quai: 
 For saving George all these were reasons good. 
 But chiefest, that for England's cause he stood. 
 In war the Kingly office is our stay, 
 Have we not proved it in our latter day? 
 
 Though some of high degree refused to own 
 This unifying power of the Throne, 
 Though Norfolk's Duke a Gallic thought disclosed, 
 'His Majesty the People's'jhealth proposed. 
 Stanhope himself a Sansculotte declared, 
 Of Danton and Barere the counsels shared. 
 And Lauderdale in House of Lords was seen 
 Dressed in the rough costume of Jacobin, 
 
 ^34 
 
The PROTAGONIST 
 
 Though not too national a tone was set 
 
 By certain folk, at Holland House that met. 
 
 And some of Brooks's clubmen, 'tis conceded. 
 
 An Anglicizing process sadly needed, — 
 
 If these and their adherents we omit, 
 
 The King and Lords and Commons stood for Pitt, 
 
 We leave him then the Master of the State, 
 
 Locked in a struggle dark and desperate. 
 
 And England at the crisis of her fate. 
 
 13s 
 
T 
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 HE days of peril passed ; England won through, 
 And Burke seemed justified by Waterloo. 
 Had ever Constitution to sustain 
 
 A more prolonged, intolerable strain? 
 
 A war of twenty years, ruined Allies, 
 
 Irish rebellion, naval mutinies. 
 
 Failure of expeditions ill-conceived. 
 
 Sedition, want, taxation unrelieved, — 
 
 All this we'd borne, stood Fortune's hardest blows, 
 
 Drawing fresh strength and courage from our woes. 
 
 Might not one think the framework of a State, 
 
 That firm had held beneath a load so great. 
 
 Was perfect? Could Perfection be amended? 
 
 Accursed be the fools that so pretended! 
 
 'Twas now the Tories' turn. ^ Forbear! ' they bade, 
 
 * Forbear this sacred structure to invade! 
 
 Remove one brick, one stone reface, and all 
 
 In ruin irretrievable must fall.' 
 
 Yet, in due time, a Noble, unafraid. 
 
 His daring hand upon the structure laid. 
 
 Cut out the rotten parts; O what a wail 
 
 Thereon arose! (but nought did it avail). 
 
 O what unprecedented alterations! 
 
 What curses, apprehensions, lamentations! 
 
 But firm the building stood; from sheer decay, 
 136 
 
T>&^PEOPLE'S WILL 
 From a still direr fate, 'twas saved by Grey. 
 Grey read the signs aright, knew that the Vote 
 Was Revolution's surest antidote. 
 Men unenfranchised seethe with discontent. 
 Give them but votes — they'll stand for Government 
 The Vote's a safety-valve; voting, men feel 
 They're part and parcel of the Commonweal. 
 
 By millions now we vote; this is the test 
 Whereby the People's will is manifest. 
 And so we 're governed; but, one wonders still. 
 Can millions indicate a single will? 
 God has a will; we say, 'God's will be done!' 
 And well we may, — God has the will of One. 
 Even His will at times is hard to hit. 
 So variously men interpret it. 
 Yet 'tis unchanging. 
 
 But can millions share 
 One purpose, and a common will declare? 
 Yes, for occasions, but long in one stay 
 Continue not, feel Oratory's sway. 
 Reverse their votes at periods, soon tired 
 Of leaders lately courted and admired. 
 
 Yet England has a will, constant and good. 
 Of ancient strength, by wise men understood. 
 And in this age, (whereon we've written rhymes), 
 This will expressed more than in other times. 
 But how define this will? thus best, I ween, 
 A will to find and keep the Golden Mean. 
 Or, haply. Instinct is a better word; 
 
 137 
 
EPILOGUE 
 
 Something too conscious Is by Will Inferred. 
 
 In Church and State appears this Instinct sane. 
 
 Letters and Manners mirror It again; 
 
 The Church alike from Superstition old 
 
 To guard, and from Fanaticism bold; 
 
 T'obey the King, not as one Heaven-sent, 
 
 But as personifying Government; 
 
 In Letters by plain elegance to please, 
 
 To join In Manners dignity with ease; 
 
 To cherish Customs, deeming change unwise, 
 
 But suffer their reform. If need arise. 
 
 Such was this age; men walked In plains serene. 
 Nor tolled uphill, nor foundered In ravine. 
 Gone the Romantic age, — a Cause had died. 
 The fact was patent, could not be denied; 
 Nor yet the age of Introspective Doubt, 
 Of arguments about It and about. 
 Of Social problems. Faith with Science fighting. 
 Of subtle voices back to Rome Inviting. 
 These troubled not; their Church a Scheme extended 
 By Prudence and by Reason recommended; 
 Their State exhibited a System wise. 
 Perfect In balance and In compromise. 
 
 Virtue Itself Is In a balance found, 
 (This did an ancient Moralist propound). 
 Virtue's a Mean; but. If this easy seems, 
 Think not a mere avoidance of extremes, 
 Or neutral principle. Is signified; 
 By men and States the rule must be applied. 
 
A GOOD PATTERN 
 
 In painful habits trained, shunning excess, 
 
 Shunning defect, in virtue men progress; 
 
 So States, that tyrant Kings alike repel 
 
 And tyrant Mobs, all other States excel. 
 
 This excellent high merit of the Mean 
 
 In Statesmanship and Conduct thus is seen 
 
 To make us patient, tolerant and fair, 
 
 Or call it Common Sense, that virtue rare 
 
 Which wise old Johnson preached from Tavern chair, 
 
 Adjuring us to clear our minds of cant. 
 
 Utter them with restraint, let others rave and rant. 
 
 And if this age is blamed as insincere. 
 Dull, selfish, — all those epithets severe. 
 How strange that Johnson was its type approved. 
 And by coevals reverenced and loved! 
 Think rather that in him they recognized 
 The things that Englishmen have ever prized, 
 Saw clear in him, beneath his manner rude. 
 The fear of God, truth, humour, fortitude, 
 A boundless charity, a noble pride, — 
 All these in Johnson were exemplified. 
 
 Such was their pattern. Is a better known ? 
 Let us be wise, and choose it for our own. 
 
 Finis 
 
 139 
 
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